


Champion

by rosethrn



Series: the better feeling of my heart [2]
Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosethrn/pseuds/rosethrn
Summary: Anne is sixteen now, and desperately wants a normal year at Hogwarts. She wants to see her boyfriend, Gilbert, again after a very long summer apart. She wants to hang out with her best friends Diana and Cole, and maybe even Charlie. But the return of the Triwizard tournament doesn’t bode well for a quiet year at Hogwarts - and to be honest, her life has never been very ordinary anyways.(likely won’t be completed, sorry everyone!)-sequel to Seeker.
Relationships: Cole Mackenzie & Anne Shirley, Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Series: the better feeling of my heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722289
Comments: 115
Kudos: 311





	1. Green Gables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne spends the last bit of her summer at Green Gables.

In August, Avonlea was at its most beautiful, or so Anne always thought. Only early spring, when all the trees flowered at once, rivaled the warm sun that only seemed to come at the end of summer on Prince Edward Island. After finishing her chores for the day, Anne scampered off to the path. Now sixteen, she was allowed certain new freedoms (and tasked with certain new responsibilities), and one of them was walking on her own. 

Not that she hadn’t done that all the time - Anne used to walk to school when she had first moved to Green Gables, and spent a considerable amount of time wandering around, but never far. When she was younger, she had a much weaker control over her magic, and a fiery disposition no less - she was hardly allowed into town until she had become older and more even-tempered. 

Now, as Anne trekked past the fields, waving brightly to Matthew, she thought of the vegetable patches and Herbology greenhouses. She didn’t speak much about magic and Hogwarts to the Cuthberts - not that they wouldn’t let her, but they never quite understood it. Anne wondered if she told Matthew about engorgement spells and Hagrid’s massive pumpkins, would he find it amusing, or strange? If she tried to explain Professor’s Sprouts herbal medicines and the properties of the Mandragora root, how would Marilla react? Anne screwed up her face at the thought, smiling to herself as she tried to picture Marilla holding a shrieking Mandrake. 

No, the summer holidays tended to bisect Anne’s life - there was her time at Hogwarts, and her summers in Avonlea. She didn’t mind that; sometimes, it felt wonderful to be at Green Gables where she wasn’t a witch, or a Ravenclaw, or a Quidditch player, but just a daughter. And a Cuthbert. 

Fluttering overhead, Anne spotted a scrawny barn owl. It hooted happily down at her, and she craned her neck to watch it soar into the distance. It was Edmund of course, the owl that her parents had bought her before her first year at Hogwarts. She had grown very fond of him, and it was especially nice to have a piece of her magical world with her even over the summers. Marilla usually secured all of Anne’s magical items in a small locked room in the first floor of their house - where no one would think to look. Anne wasn’t sure if there were magical folk in Avonlea, but Marilla was certain that there were not, and was intent on upholding the Statute of Secrecy and keeping Anne’s identity secret. She couldn’t lock up Edmund of course - but Anne kept him in a cage in her room and only let him out every few days, to minimize suspicion. 

She wished she could use a broom, though. Anne didn’t have one of her own, but borrowed a school broom for the summer hoping to practice a bit for Quidditch the next year. She had always thought Green Gables would appear even more wonderful if she was soaring over it like a bird. She had imagined the feeling of skimming the Lake of Shining Waters with her toes, the wind in her hair… but Marilla and Matthew wouldn’t let her. Anne knew that it was reasonable - Green Gables was secluded, but not isolated, and there was a perfectly good chance that she could be spotted on a broom. When Anne thought of the look on Rachel Lynde’s face at the sight of that - she was their especially nosy neighbor - she giggled roguishly. 

In moments like these, Anne was especially jealous of Gilbert. His father was a wizard, and so he was still very much connected to the magical world. Mr. Blythe had returned from Azkaban at the end of the previous school year, after his wrongful conviction, and they were travelling the world over the summer. At least, that was what Anne had heard from him - he kept her updated with owls. Even with their continued correspondence, Anne missed him much more than she wanted to admit, especially because she’d hardly had the chance to enjoy his company as her boyfriend before they parted ways for the summer. 

Even Cole and Diana, Anne’s best friends from Hogwarts, weren’t entirely cut off to magic. Both were from magical families - Diana was from a distinguished pureblood family, and Cole’s mother (and two siblings) were witches and wizards. Of course, no underage students could use actual magic, technically speaking, but she knew that Cole and Gilbert definitely got away with doing it on occasion. There were no wizards that Anne knew of in Avonlea, and she knew if she attempted intentional magic, the Ministry would know it was her - and she’d be expelled. Cole and Gilbert were certainly both using their brooms at least (which was allowed out of sight of Muggles), and would probably both be much more practiced for the Quidditch season than she was, Anne thought grumpily.

Their Ordinary Wizarding Level results had arrived in July. Anne and Gilbert tied for the top marks, getting an Outstanding on nine each (all except Divination for Anne, and Herbology for Gilbert, but neither of them wanted to continue taking those anyway). Diana and Cole both got seven, and even Charlie scraped by with a solid five, according to Cole’s letter. Anne was excited for this year - sixth years had much more free time, and more demanding classes too. They’d surely be working on more interesting things this year.

Anne arrived at the edge of the Lake of Shining Waters, a wide, reflective lake that she’d named upon her arrival in Avonlea. She sat and stared for a while, thinking about Hogwarts and Gilbert and Green Gables. Her mind wandered to her parents - her biological parents. Anne always felt a slight twinge of guilt when she wondered about them. She loved the Cuthberts dearly, but her parents had been wizards like her. That was all she really knew about them. They would understand everything about her, her entire world, in a way that she knew that Marilla and Matthew could not, try as they might. 

It didn’t matter though. The Cuthberts were her family, as true as anything. Anne rarely thought back to her time before Green Gables anymore. She had been in an orphanage since she was a baby, and had never been so companionless as she had in those painfully long years of her youth. The Hopetown asylum was not a tolerant place, especially for mischief-makers. And although Anne was not one, she was still a witch. She couldn’t control her magic, and she had always been quite emotional. There had been several incidents over the years, all of which branded her as a freak among the other girls.

They teased and insulted her relentlessly, and Anne’s emotional flare-ups nearly always resulted in accidental magic. The first time it happened was when she was six. They had decided on Anne’s least favorite target - her red hair, which was even more orangey back then. The insults that they hurled at her still echoed in Anne's mind sometimes.

But when they approached her, trying to tug at her hair, to push her down - her skin had burned hot. They recoiled at the touch, alarmed. Her hair was practically flaming, and her tears sizzled on her cheeks. These sorts of occurrences continued on and off for years, and half the girls in the orphanage were terrified of Anne, and the rest of them hated her strangeness. She was luckier than most, though. Some girls never made it out of Hopetown.

Edmund soared down beside Anne, pecking sharply at her and interrupting her from her thoughts.

“Ouch,” Anne said irritably. She realized what he was trying to express - the sun had nearly set over the trees. “You’re right - I’m going, I’m going.”

As Anne moved to get up, she heard a shuffling and a snapping sound in the trees, far to her right, just at the lake’s edge. She froze for several moments. The sky was getting darker and darker, and Anne strained her eyes, but couldn’t see into the shadowy trees. She reached her hand instinctually for her wand, only to realize that she didn’t have it with her. 

Feeling very vulnerable, Anne stood shakily, but no other sounds came. She brushed the dirt off her clothes and Edmund fluttered up to her shoulder. Anne waited for a few more seconds, but only sensed the cool breeze off the lake and the muted chirping of the birds at night. 

She huffed but turned, walking briskly back to Green Gables. She was always supposed to be back by sunset, and by now the sun was _definitely_ gone, and pinpricks of starlight were emerging in the sky in its stead. Anne wasn’t far from home, but she hastened on the way back, already imagining Marilla’s austere face greeting her at the door.

Sure enough, when Green Gables came into view, Marilla was standing outside, silhouetted by the porchlight. Her arms were folded and her lips were pressed tightly together. Edmund flew straight up to her open window as she approached the house.

“Coward,” Anne muttered at him as he went, escaping Marilla’s wrath. 

“Well, I’m glad you finally decided to come home,” Marilla said, putting a stern hand behind Anne’s back and steering her inside.

“I’m sorry, Marilla, I didn’t mean to,” Anne began, realizing that she had no excuse other than her dreaminess for why she had been late. 

“Do you ever pull your head out of the clouds, Anne?” Marilla said strictly. “We were worried!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Anne repeated. “I lose track of time.”

“Well,” Marilla said harshly, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to extract a better answer. “Post arrived for you.”

Anne’s eyes darted to the sight of Rory, Gilbert’s screech owl, perched by the window. “Gilbert wrote?” 

Marilla held the letters out of reach when Anne reached forward. “Your school letter as well. Up to bed. You can read them tomorrow.”

“Marilla!”

“Anne, perhaps if you had heeded our one rule, then you would be permitted to read them, but it’s late now. You should be getting to sleep,” Marilla said.

Anne looked longingly at Gilbert’s scrawled handwriting on the letter in Marilla’s hand, but reluctantly marched upstairs to sleep. She changed and readied herself for bed quickly, stomping into her room. 

Edmund clicked cheerfully at her. 

“What are you so happy about,” Anne muttered in annoyance, but stepped forward to stroke his feathers before falling into her bed. Wondering distantly about the letter, Anne allowed herself to drift off, the thought of leaving for school in only a few short weeks at the front of her mind. 

Anne could hear the clattering of plates and dishes when she clambered down the stairs the next morning. Matthew was at the table, glasses perched on his nose, reading the paper. 

“Good morning, Matthew!” Anne greeted him cheerfully, heading straight to the kitchen. He gave her a happy nod in response.

Anne eyed the letters on the counter as she crossed the kitchen, where Marilla was cooking breakfast already. The stack had an added third letter, and Anne whirled around. Where Rory had stood the night before, Adelia was perched, flapping her white wings. Diana had written too!

“Honestly, Anne, won’t you control these things!” Marilla scolded distastefully as she eyed Diana’s owl. 

Anne strode over to Adelia, who nipped at her finger playfully. “She’s just resting a bit before she flies back to Diana’s,” she said, looking fondly at the snowy owl. 

“This is not an owlery!” Marilla exclaimed, throwing a look at Anne. 

“Around the back, my window is open,” Anne whispered to Adelia, who set off out the kitchen window. She stepped sneakily towards the letters as Marilla’s back turned to scrape some eggs onto three plates.

“Anne - set the table first. And wash your hands, after you’ve touched that bird!”

Anne rolled her eyes and scrubbed her hands clean, carried utensils out to the table, and helped Marilla finish bringing the rest of breakfast out to the table. 

“Can I read them _now?”_ she requested. 

“Er - _fine_ ,” Marilla said as she headed to the table.

Gleefully, Anne seized the letters and sat at the table across from Matthew. She decided to open her school letter first, which bore the Hogwarts seal and McGonagall’s emerald green writing. 

_Dear Ms. Shirley,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock._

_A list of books for next year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Anne folded this letter, and pulled out the booklist underneath, printed with the books she would need for the year: 

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _Advanced Potion-Making_ by Libatius Borage

 _Dark Arts for the Accomplished Student_ by Daphne Greengrass

 _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _Advanced Rune Translation_ by Yuri Blishen

_Flesh-Eating Trees of the World_

_Please note that all students fourth year and above should also bring dress robes or similar for school this year._

Anne grinned down at the paper, folding it up and stowing it securely in the envelope. Soon she would be back in Diagon Alley, seeing all of her friends again to buy her school books for the year. 

Diana’s and Gilbert’s letters were left. She thought for a moment, and decided to open Gilbert’s first. It had been at least a month since he had written to her, and maybe she would have worried if it wasn’t him. Tracking him down was half the trouble - Edmund always looked especially tired when he made it back to Green Gables after delivering Anne’s letters - last she’d heard, he and his father were in Egypt.

_Anne,_

_Sorry for the late response. We’re in Romania right now - my dad has a friend here who works with dragons. They’re huge - one nearly singed my arm off - but they’re amazing. There are loads of other types of beasts here, although Dad reckons some of them are being bred illegally, which apparently happens a lot here. I’ve heard about manticores and basilisks - I wish you could see all of this stuff. Hagrid would have a field day here._

_It’s too bad you can’t ride a broom over the summer, but just remember that you went a couple years without riding one, and you were still one of the best flyers at school last year. But don’t expect any easy wins against Gryffindor this year - you got lucky at our last game. I've been planning plays all summer, so game on, Shirley._

_We’re heading home now. I’ll be back in time to stop in Diagon Alley a week before the start of school. I hope we can meet there. I miss you._

_Yours,_

_Gilbert_

Anne read his letter twice, grinning, before opening Diana’s. It was in a small envelope, and when she unraveled it she smiled at the contrast between the two letters - Diana’s penmanship was perfect, especially in comparison to Gilbert’s hurried scrawl.

_Dear Anne,_

_I miss you so! The last month has been dreadful. Minnie May is learning the violin, and the sound makes me want to claw my eyes out. Mother insists that she practice every night, and I think my ears are still ringing._

_Did you get your school letter yet? Mine arrived just now - did you see that we’re meant to bring dress robes? Maybe there will be another ball this year. Either way, I’ll be elated to be back in the Ravenclaw tower again, where no one plays the violin horridly each night. Except Charlie, but that was one time._

_I’ve been pestering my parents all summer, and they’ve agreed to let you visit for the last week of vacation if you can! I wanted to invite Cole as well, but they’re a bit more wary of having a boy stay in the house (although we both know there’s no need to worry there). Ask your parents if you can - send Adelia back with your response as soon as possible. If you can, we can meet you in Diagon Alley a week before school begins, and you can stay until we leave for Hogwarts._

_Your most kindred friend,_

_Diana_

“Anything interesting?” Matthew asked politely, his eyes still scanning the paper. 

“Nothing,” Anne said, hurriedly scooting Gilbert’s letter under the one from school. “Well - except Diana wrote. She wants me to stay with her the week before school begins - after we visit Diagon Alley.”

Marilla looked pensive, and Anne plastered her most hopeful smile onto her face.

“I don’t see why not,” Matthew said before Marilla could respond, looking up at her with a cheery smile.

“Thank you, _thank you!”_ Anne said, leaping up to kiss him on the cheek and hug Marilla. 

“Fine,” Marilla agreed. “But we’re bringing you to Diagon Alley next week. And clean out that room of yours, those owls have made a right mess.

“Of course, Marilla,” Anne said brightly. She couldn’t have been happier to obey Marilla’s orders, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here I am starting a whole new work. I'm actually excited though to continue the story, so hopefully you all are too. Sorry if this chapter isn't really action filled, but I wanted to include a bit of Anne's time with her parents at Green Gables & her background in the context of this world. I have the next chapter written so I should be pretty regular with updating like last time. Anyways, let me know any thoughts/expectations/hopes you have!


	2. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The students reunite in Diagon Alley; news spreads of a mysterious event at Hogwarts.

Anne spent the waning days of summer happy at Green Gables, but felt a burning anticipation growing as the end of August approached. On the Sunday that they were to go to Diagon Alley, she could hardly contain herself.

After a long day of travel, they made it to the Leaky Cauldron. Anne figured this way would be easiest - she had tried to go by Floo powder the year before, and that had been entirely too complicated for the Cuthberts. They made their way to the back exit, only attracting a few stares from wizards, finally arriving at the wall behind the pub. Matthew was carrying Anne’s trunk, wheeling it sort of awkwardly across the cobblestone, and Marilla was reluctantly carrying Edmund at arms length, locked securely in his cage. 

“Right,” Anne said, concentrating to remember the way in. “Three up and two across…”

Anne tapped her wand to one of the bricks in the wall, and they unfolded slowly to reveal the bustling street of Diagon Alley. She grinned, feeling very happy to once again be surrounded by wizards. Anne cast a sideways glance at Matthew and Marilla, who looked a bit stunned. Some Muggles, Anne guessed, would never quite get used to magic.

To her immediate relief, she saw the Barrys standing outside Flourish & Blotts, although Diana was not with them. She tugged her parents along, hurrying towards them. 

Mrs. Barry was a bit wary of non-magic folk, and Mr. Barry made sort of obliviously condescending comments about them, but they were well-meaning. After all, they were purebloods, and weren’t entirely accustomed to Muggles. Today, both were dressed in long, elegant robes, not unlike most of the wizards on the street. Matthew and Marilla stuck out a bit in their Muggle clothing. 

“Mrs. Barry, Mr. Barry!” Anne waved as they drew nearer. They smiled politely, although Mrs. Barry looked a bit strained as she watched Matthew struggling to keep up with Anne’s trunk.

“Anne, how wonderful to see you,” Mr. Barry chuckled deeply. “Diana’s around somewhere - we’ve just been buying Minnie May’s books.”

Anne caught Diana’s little sister’s eye, and she peered up at her with a grin. Anne winked back at her. 

Then, as if to fill a slightly awkward silence, Mr. Barry stretched his hand out towards Matthew. “Great to see you again, Mr. Cuthbert! You can leave Anne’s stuff with us - she’ll be wanting to go find Diana, I expect!”

Anne nodded with a smile, and turned to her parents. Matthew shook Mr. Barry’s hand, and turned to her. Both of them seemed a bit at a loss for words. 

“I’ll write to you,” Anne said, enveloping both of them in a hug. When she let go, Marilla looked a bit teary-eyed, and Matthew was looking fondly at her. 

“Please do,” Marilla said, holding Anne’s hand tightly before releasing it. 

“And you best be coming home for the holidays this year,” Matthew said in a lower voice, winking at Anne. She giggled back, remembering the disaster of her last year when she tried to stay at school for Christmas. 

Anne watched them disappear through the archway out of Diagon Alley, and promised to meet the Barrys again in an hour before leaving them with her luggage.

She started to walk down Diagon Alley rather aimlessly. She had forgotten how wonderful the magical world was - as she often did, after living simply at Green Gables for months. Diagon Alley was spectacularly different - there was so much to look at. First, second, and third years at Hogwarts filled up most of the street, some accompanied by parents. Many wizards in various colored robes hurried up and down, carrying various telescopes and silver instruments and books. Anne passed Ollivander’s, where she had received her wand just five years ago. Peeking into the window, she could see a frightened looking eleven-year-old sending a stack of boxes flying across the room with the wave of a knotty wand. She laughed to herself, remembering the damage that she had done to Ollivander’s wand shop before finally finding the one that suited her.

Anne headed first to Gringotts. She had a vault of wizarding money that had belonged to her parents - she’d never have known about it if it wasn’t for Dumbledore. Anne had thought she wouldn’t be able to afford any of her books, but her parents had left a modest amount of money in their vault, and when they died it became hers. It certainly wasn’t enough to afford the broomstick that Anne so desperately wanted to buy, but it kept her afloat. 

She was stepping out of Gringotts and thinking about where she would head next - wondering where Diana had gotten off to - when she felt a hand seize her wrist. Anne yelped as she was pulled into a small, dark alley beside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.

Her eyes widened in shock as she recognized the identity of her assailant, and threw her arms around him. “Gilbert!”

As she pulled back she saw her smile reflected by his, and he kissed her once, twice. It was far too chaste for Anne, after not seeing him for a summer, but she reminded herself that they were only a few meters away from a street full of people. 

“You idiot, you scared me,” she laughed, locking her hands behind his neck. He’d grown taller still over the summer, and now had at least four or five inches on her, but his unruly dark hair and hazel eyes were the same as always. 

“That’s the idea,” he said breathlessly. His hands were around her waist, and Anne felt her heart beating unnaturally fast.

“Have you bought all your things? How long have you been here?”

“Just about. I’ll have to go in a bit.”

“Is your father here?” Anne asked suddenly, her hands falling to clutch his shoulders. Her heart leaped suddenly. Would she have to meet his father? What would she say? Anne hadn’t considered the possibility of seeing John Blythe, but now that it crossed her mind, she wished she had prepared something to say.

“No, I came alone,” Gilbert laughed, but it melted away as he caught her nervous eyes. “Quit worrying, Anne, he’d love you.”

“How was Romania?” Anne prodded. It felt unreal to have him standing in front of him now. She had so many questions, and finally she wouldn’t have to wait weeks for an answer. Half of her wanted to kiss the daylights out of him, but the other, more reasonable half wanted to talk and talk for hours until he grew bored of answering.

“It was really good, but I missed you,” Gilbert said, his hand reaching absently for the end of one of her red braids.

Anne leaned forward and kissed him again. She waited until he leaned closer, reaching a hand up to her face, and pulled away with a teasing smile. “Well, I’m here now. Help me find Diana.”

He frowned at the interruption but allowed her to pull him back to the street, and they joined the throng of witches and wizards. There were a few sixth and seventh years that Anne spotted, but for the most part, students their age didn’t have to come to Diagon Alley. They needed only books, whereas first years were buying robes, cauldrons, and pets. Anne saw a first-year boy carrying a cauldron stuffed so full with books, parchment, and ink that he nearly dropped it several times. 

“Whoa,” Anne said. She and Gilbert stumbled to a stop in front of Broomstix, a large shop with the newest brooms displayed in the front window. 

“Whoa,” Gilbert echoed.

They gaped at it. The Firebolt, the most expensive new racing broom on the market, was at the front of the display. A small crowd of students had congregated, their hands pressed to the glass, murmuring excitedly. Anne looked sideways at Gilbert. She knew that neither of them could ever afford a broom like that, although it was certainly the one thing that they each wanted. Quidditch was everything to Gilbert - Anne was sure he could play professionally, if he chose to. 

“Okay, that’s two copies of our new books, I bought parchment and dress robes - is that every -  _ Anne _ !”

Anne whirled around at the sound of Diana’s voice. She had Cole beside her, and they crushed her in a hug. 

“It’s so good to see you!”

“We’ve been looking for you - where have you been?”

“Honestly, Mother said she’d seen you, but we checked every shop - oh, Gilbert!”

Diana and Cole straightened, noticing that Anne wasn’t alone. Anne could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of mischievous realization on their faces, and she hoped that her cheeks weren’t as red as she thought they were.

“It’s good to see you guys,” Gilbert nodded. “I wish I could stay, but my father’s expecting me home - but I’ll see you all when term starts?”

He leaned over to Anne, kissed her on the cheek, and said goodbye to the others. Diana and Cole stared with wide eyes until he was gone, and then turned stiffly to Anne with expressions of delight. 

“Don’t start,” Anne warned.

“How could we not, Anne!” Diana said, hopping on the balls of her feet. 

“Anne’s got a  _ boyfriend!”  _ Cole sang.

“ _ Cole’s  _ got a boyfriend!” Anne snapped. “Does no one want to talk about that?” 

Cole and Diana just smiled devilishly and steered Anne towards Flourish and Blotts. Anne caught a glimpse of the front display as they whisked her in, and it was full of floating books, their pages flipping autonomously for the onlookers on the street. 

Flourish and Blotts was covered in books, from wall to ceiling to winding staircase, as always. Several younger students milled around - Anne saw one wrestling with one of Hagrid’s chomping textbooks for third year Care of Magical Creatures.

“I already grabbed you a copy of all the books on our list,” Diana said, and catching Anne’s reproachful eye, added, “oh don’t worry, Father will figure out what you owe, and you can pay it back if you’re so keen.”

“So then why are we here?”

“There’s one book you have to pick up for yourself,” Diana said, pointing to a stack of midnight black books in the corner. There were only about five left. Anne peered at the top one, whose cover appeared to display moving smoke. 

“Why?” Anne said, approaching the stack slowly.

“They’re our Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks for this year,” Cole said, staring down at them over Anne’s shoulder. “NEWT level - way more intense stuff this year, apparently. The books have flesh memories, and only open to the first wizard to touch them.”

Anne was about to step closer when a tall, slim wizard in his late forties blocked her path. He glared down at her through thick spectacles that rested on his very crooked nose. “Don’t touch.”

“I - er, I’m in Professor Stacy’s class?” Anne said tentatively, shifting under his cold glare. 

“Name?”

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” she said nervously, in such a way that it sounded more like a question.

The man raised his wand, turning to the stack. At the flick of his wand, the second to last book edged out from the bottom of the stack and flew up to Anne. She looked at him with uncertainty, but he just raised his eyebrows expectantly. 

When Anne reached out to grab the textbook, it felt icy cold. The fog that had been furling across the cover moved to where her hands were, leaving smokey grey fingerprints wherever she touched. Slowly, the smoke configured itself into faint writing, spelling out the title:  _ Dark Arts for the Accomplished Student. _

“Wicked, right?” Cole whispered. 

Anne paid the shopkeeper with some of the money she had pocketed from Gringotts and they hurried out, dodging a second year whose pet cat was clawing at her copy of  _ A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration _ . Anne tucked her new textbook under her arm. It was starting to feel less cold, and the smoke had turned from murky gray to misty white. 

“Mum and Dad are still helping Minnie May buy a couple more things for the year,” Diana said as they made their way down the street. “But we can meet them at the Leaky Cauldron. We want to hear about your summer!”

When the three of them had finally situated themselves in a vacant booth, three tankards of butterbeer bubbling before them, Anne realized that there wasn’t much to say. Diana had loads of stories of her parents forcing her to take additional classes over the summer, and Cole had been practicing Quidditch every weekend with Eliot, who lived only twenty minutes away. Anne, meanwhile, had not touched her wand or broom since June, and the most facetime she got with anyone in the magical world was her owl Edmund - and that was only when he wasn’t away for weeks delivering letters to her friends. But both Diana and Cole seemed to have filled each other in about their summers already, and were now eager to hear about Anne’s.

“Well, what about Gilbert?” Diana prodded excitedly when Anne told them there was nothing much to say about her summer.

“I mean, you should’ve seen how he was looking at you,” Cole added with a smirk.

“Nothing about Gilbert!” Anne said bashfully, her mouth drawing into an unintentional smile. “You know it all already! We haven’t even seen each other since last year.”

“Well, what was it like to see him again, then?” Diana said, her voice echoing in her cup as she took a sip of butterbeer.

Anne’s eyes glazed over slightly as she recalled the hushed words spoken in the alley, and the feeling of his lips on hers. She snapped into focus and shrugged. “Good.”

“Good,” Cole repeated dully. “It’s like pulling teeth, getting details out of you.”

“And how is Jerry, Diana?” Anne asked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Diana’s face drew into a frown, but the expression faded away as quickly as it came. “I wouldn’t know.”

Anne, confused, opened her mouth to ask more, but Diana quickly spoke again.

“You know, there was one thing I overheard that I wanted to tell you guys,” she said, averting her eyes from Anne’s inquisitive gaze. “You know how my parents have, er… friends in the Ministry?”

Anne was sure Diana was referring to her family’s financial influence over the Ministry, which she knew that her friend hated to mention. This sparked her curiosity.

“Well, it all seems to be sort of secret,” Diana went on, her eyes glinting with mischief. “But there’s something big happening this year at Hogwarts. The Ministry involved and everything.”

Anne frowned, remembering the last time the Ministry interfered at Hogwarts. 

“It’s not what you think, Anne,” Diana said, recognizing Anne’s train of thought. “I think it’s some sort of… event?”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, but I guess we’ll find out soon.”

Diana gave them both a grin, and Anne felt her stomach twist, a million thoughts about what this could mean flashing through her head, interrupted only when the Barrys arrived to take them back home. 


	3. The Goblet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne stays with Diana for the week before term; when schools begins, the rumors are addressed.

Diana’s house - or maybe estate was the right word - was a beautiful white building with long stretches of green land in every direction. It was very removed from the city, and Anne had a feeling that the Barrys had never had to worry about Muggles seeing any odd magic occurring there. Inside, there were polished floors and great jeweled chandeliers in every room, and a marble staircase that wound up to the second floor. Sometimes, you could see what looked like a hairless cat on two legs scampering around - the Barrys’ house elf Nimsy - although she was a bit shy around visitors, according to Diana. When Anne had first stepped in, her jaw had dropped, and Diana looked very embarrassed. She knew that Diana had come from old money, but wasn’t entirely prepared for the manifestation of what must have been generations of wealth. She thought meekly of the shabby house at Green Gables, and the perpetually broken shutters that she and Matthew had to repair every year. 

But as the week went on, Anne grew quite used to life at the Barrys’. She certainly didn’t judge Diana for it, and her parents were nothing but polite to her - if a little pushy when they were discussing what she and Diana would be doing after Hogwarts at dinner. Anne could see there was unresolved tension on that subject, from the pinched expression on Mrs. Barry’s face and the way Diana stared down at her soup bowl. 

During the days, Anne finally got to flying again - Diana and Minnie May didn’t own a broom, but Mr. Barry had lent her his own from his “old flying days.” It was kept in a small, shabby looking shed on the edge of their vast lawn, indicating to Anne that it was a hobby that Mrs. Barry didn’t entirely approve of. Either way, she relished the feeling of flying again. Diana and Minnie May joined her often, cheering from the ground. She got the feeling that this wasn’t the sort of recreation that usually occured at the Barrys.

They invented a couple different games for Anne to practice, most of which involved throwing objects into the distance for her to catch, although it wasn’t quite the same as having someone else in the air with her. 

It was this, among other things, that made her weak with excitement when they finally arrived at King’s Cross on the first of September. Anne, Diana, and Minnie May each packed their trunks into trolleys; Anne and Diana balancing their owls' cages precariously atop theirs, and Minnie May clutching her small white cat under her arm. A couple Muggles were eyeing them strangely, but they lurked between platforms 9 and 10 until the area was relatively clear. Then, bidding goodbye to the Barrys (Anne thanking them profusely for allowing her to stay), they vanished through the barrier one-by-one. 

When Anne emerged on the other side, the platform was alive with noise. Clusters of students hung around, all greeting each other excitedly. Half of them were wearing their school robes already, and the other half still wore Muggle clothes. The Hogwarts Express, gleaming scarlet in the morning light, was whistling loudly as it arrived. Anne waved to Jack Wallace, a friend from the Quidditch team, who grinned back at her from where he and his little sister were saying goodbye to their family.

Minnie May scampered off to join her Gryffindor friends, leaving Anne and Diana to haul their luggage onto the train. It had started to fill up with students, and the corridors were full with chatter, squeaking pets, and Zonko’s fireworks being set off all down the train. Now relieved of their trunks, Anne and Diana carried only their owls’ cages with them as they made their way down the aisle to find a compartment. 

“You only support the Magpies because they’ve won the Cup the most,” came a voice from a compartment a ways down.

“Do not!”

“He’s right, Charlie - you gotta stay loyal to your team from day one. Like me and the Cannons - it’s not as though they always give me something to root for, but I’ve always supported them.”

“Fine then - who do you support if not the Magpies, Gilbert?”

Anne and Diana wedged open the compartment door, and the four boys straightened immediately. Gilbert and Cole were sitting on the left, and Jerry and Charlie were on the right. 

“Finally!” Cole said, waving them in. “You guys are usually so early.”

“Sorry - Minnie May somehow forgot her cat, and we had to go back for her,” Diana replied tiredly. 

Anne moved to take the spot between Gilbert and Cole, but Diana practically dashed to it, leaving her to sit confusedly beside Jerry. She tried to catch Diana’s eye, but again, she looked to the floor.

Charlie, who seemed the only one to not have noticed any of this, piped up: “We were just discussing the Quidditch League games. Have you been keeping up, Anne?”

Anne shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I don’t really have any access to the magical world when I’m not at Hogwarts.”

Gilbert gave her a reassuring smile, and Charlie brushed past this. He supplied most of the conversation for the continuation of the ride to Hogwarts, only silenced by a large pumpkin pasty that he purchased when the trolley came by. Anne met Gilbert’s eyes several times, both of them clearly noticing that Jerry and Diana had hardly looked in each other’s direction since they boarded the train. 

They had just finished a game of Exploding Snap when the train screeched to a halt. Cole peered out the window. “We’re here,” he confirmed with a smile. 

They had all pulled on their school robes, and everyone piled out into the hall to recover their luggage and board the horseless chariots towards the school. Anne heard Hagrid calling all the first years (“Firs’ years, this way!”) towards the boats that they’d take across the lake before they were to be sorted. She felt a spark of excitement - she’d always enjoyed watching the Sorting. 

The same six from their compartment on the Hogwarts Express piled into a chariot together, this time with Diana seating herself between Anne and Cole. They made eye contact, and decided not to question it for now. 

No one spoke on the ride up to the castle, especially as it started to pour down rain. The sky had turned gray and cloudy, and Anne saw a blinding fork of lightning in the distance, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. She suddenly felt very sorry for the first years, who were no doubt having a rough time in those boats on the lake.

Anne pulled out her wand. “ _ Impervius _ ,” she shouted, tapping it to the chariot. The water began repelling from it in odd directions - Anne and Diana were protected, as were Gilbert and Jerry across from them. Cole and Charlie, however, were still getting a full face of rain.

“Gee, thanks, Anne!” Charlie sputtered, rain streaming into his mouth. Gilbert and Jerry laughed beside him. “Now I’m all warm and toasty!”

“Sorry,” Anne giggled. “I haven’t tried it on such a large target before.”

The chariot pulled into Hogwarts then, and the students all exited, dumping their luggage to be taken up to their dormitories and crowding into the entrance hall. They sopped rain and mud straight into the Great Hall, all of them splitting off to join the tables of their respective Houses. Filch was standing by the door, his face contorting as he stared blankly at their muddy footprints on the floor he had likely polished minutes before.

Thousands of candles glittered in the air above the Hall, and the enchanted ceiling displayed the stormy sky that they had just escaped from - although thankfully, the rain remained outside. At the head of the hall, all of Anne’s teachers occupied a table, and Dumbledore was sitting in the center. They found Ka’kwet, sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and Anne, Diana, Charlie, and Cole took seats around her. Anne was about to ask Ka’kwet about her summer when McGonagall began ushering the first years in, carrying a stool and a very worn hat.

As McGonagall released the hat onto the stool, it straightened immediately and began bellowing out a song:

“ _ Welcome to our first years _

_ I’ll tell you all a tale _

_ Of founders who preceded you _

_ United without fail _

_ First there was brave Gryffindor _

_ Whose valor was unmatched _

_ Then Hufflepuff to whom _

_ Ideals of honor were attached _

_ Ravenclaw was known _

_ For valuing the mind within _

_ And I’d doubt that you’d find someone _

_ As ambitious as old Slytherin _

_ And so the four decided  _

_ To pass on all that they knew _

_ To students, young and old _

_ All magic novices like you _

_ But first you’ll find out where you sit _

_ Inside this hall of four _

_ Put me on, I’ll send you to _

_ The House your heart calls for!” _

As the hat concluded its song, the hall erupted into cheers. Anne clapped along with the others, craning her head for a view of the stool. McGonagall was unraveling a scroll and positioning her spectacles on the end of her nose to begin reading off names.

“Armstrong, Natalie!” McGonagall called first, and a small blonde girl hurried up to the stool. McGonagall raised the hat over her head - it fell over her eyes for a moment, and she pushed it up hastily.

“GRYFFINDOR!” the hat screamed with satisfaction. Natalie joined the other Gryffindors, looking relieved to be out of the spotlight.

The next boy, “Adler, Jeff,” scampered up to the stool with wide eyes, to be made a Hufflepuff a few seconds later. Then the hat sent another pair of twins into Hufflepuff, and a raven haired girl became the first Slytherin.

Anne looked on, impatiently waiting for a new Ravenclaw. Gilbert winked competitively at her as “Finnigan, Josephine” joined her older brother at the Gryffindor table. 

“Gardner, Mallory!”

A girl with round green eyes and wispy white hair took the stool next, and the hat stayed on her head for a few seconds before shouting, “RAVENCLAW!”

Anne gave Gilbert a pointed look and he rolled his eyes.

“Huxley, Amelia!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Hyland, Maximus!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

The Sorting went on for several more minutes until “Whitmore, Jordan” became the final Slytherin. Finally, Dumbledore arrived at the podium. Anne hoped that his speech was quick this year, because hunger was starting to stab at her, and she was starting to wish she had bought something more off the trolley on the train. 

However, Dumbledore took in a large breath, and Anne didn’t feel very sure that this would be quick. 

“Welcome, welcome, first years, and everyone else!” Dumbledore began heartily. He was wearing pale gray robes and a matching hat this year, and his long white beard was tied with a festive ribbon. “Now, I have a few notices before we begin our start-of-term feast.

“As always, the forest on grounds is out-of-bounds to wandering students,” Dumbledore’s eyes rested on Anne for a brief moment, and she remembered her experience in the forest last year with a shudder. “Filch would also like me to remind students that they are not permitted out of bed after hours, and would like everyone to note that Mrs. Norris can still smell students even when they are using Transparency Chews.” 

Anne looked over at Charlie, who had been brandishing the Zonko’s sweet on the train and bragging about his ability to sneak around all he wanted, was now turning a bit red. Her mouth curved up into a smile, but it was wiped from her face entirely at Dumbledore’s next words.

“I also regret to tell you all that there will be no Inter-House Quidditch Cup this year.”

Anne’s jaw dropped, loud dissent echoing across the room. Cole’s face mirrored hers, but after a moment he regained his composure enough to mutter, “That’s not  _ possible!” _

Gilbert looked devastated at the Gryffindor table. Anne knew he’d been practicing all summer to equip his team for this year. And she had been looking forward to trying out as a Chaser - it was one of the thoughts that had occupied her mind constantly at Green Gables.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said evenly, and the room quited as he raised a hand. “This is because we are hosting a very special event here at Hogwarts, which I believe you will all find equally enjoyable, if not more.”

Everyone hung onto the edge of their seats. Anne’s hunger had disappeared from her mind.

“This year, Hogwarts will host the Triwizard tournament.”

“ _ Wicked! _ ” Charlie shouted, and laughter echoed around the room. Everyone was whispering to their friends. Anne had heard of the Triwizard tournament once or twice, but wasn’t it supposed to be extremely dangerous? And there hadn’t been one in hundreds of years, she’d thought.

“I must ask for your attention to elaborate on what this tournament entails,” Dumbledore said, and the room fell silent again. “Hogwarts will host a small group of students from two other wizarding schools - Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Each school will submit a champion to compete in a series of extremely difficult tasks throughout the year intended to test their nerve and ability. The student who receives the highest cumulative score from the judges on these tasks will win one thousand galleons prize money and bring immense pride to their school. It also serves as an opportunity to stimulate friendly cooperation among the three schools, and was a very wonderful tradition until it was cancelled due to rising death toll.”

“Excuse me?” Diana hissed. “Death toll?” 

Charlie and Cole were grinning as if this was the best news they could have received.

“We have set several rules and have planned to ensure the safety of our champions this year,” Dumbledore went on, “so that none of that would be of concern to any of you. However, one of these prescribed rules allows only students in the sixth year and above to submit themselves for consideration as the Hogwarts champion. Any who wishes to have the opportunity to be selected may put their name into the Goblet of Fire.”

“I’ll have a go,” Charlie muttered to them, his eyes twinkling. “Think of all that money.”

“And you reckon that the Goblet will select you?” Cole scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, Charles, but you’re not exactly the star of Hogwarts.”

“I have my moments!” Charlie protested indignantly. 

At Cole’s words, Anne suddenly snapped her head towards the Gryffindor table. Gilbert was looking thoughtfully at Dumbledore, but she couldn’t exactly read the emotion on his face. Was he going to submit himself? If there was ever a student that fit the bill of what Anne expected to be picked as champion, it was him.

“You may submit your names into the Goblet when the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contenders arrive later this month. The Goblet will then select the competitors for each school,” Dumbledore said, a slight smile appearing on his face. “I warn that this competition is not for the faint of heart. And you may find that it is very unlike the tournaments that we have had before.”

Dumbledore waited for a slightly panicked silence to fall over the crowd before raising his hands cheerfully and saying, “Shall we eat then?”

The four tables sagged under the weight of mountainous platters of food appearing in front of them. As the students of every House began stuffing themselves with food and chatting excitedly about the tournament, Anne stole a look at Gilbert, who was still wearing the same pensive expression as he had before. As the thought of him competing in a series of deadly challenges played in her mind… she couldn’t help wondering if this tournament would be much more trouble than it was worth. 


	4. The Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrive; Anne and her friends consider entering their names into the Goblet of Fire.

Anne was finding that her classes this year were somehow in competition to be worse than last year’s. Even though she was taking less classes this year - now at the N.E.W.T. level, she didn’t qualify to continue with Divination, but that was a bit of a relief - she still found that the workload was insurmountable. By the first week, McGonagall had already assigned twelve inches of parchment on human transformation and metamorphmagi, Snape was forcing them to brew more complicated potions than ever, and even Professor Sprout was demanding an essay on the uses of fluxweed.

“I bet you’re glad you’re not taking it this year,” Anne huffed to Gilbert on the Friday afternoon after their first week of school. It had been increasingly difficult for them to find time to spend together, especially with their new class schedules and workload. Furthermore, both of them hated being under the prying eyes of other students, so they were wary of the library and the corridors of the castle. It was a bit difficult to find a private spot at all, being in different houses and lacking the access to each other’s common rooms. 

But even as it was September, the weather had cleared up that day and the sun was beating down. It was especially warm, and although many students were outside enjoying the sun, the grounds were large enough for them to find a spot alone.

Gilbert was sitting with his back against a large tree. Anne had found a soft spot in the grass beside him, her head in his lap, twirling her wand absentmindedly as she stared up at the sky peeking through the canopy. 

“I am,” Gilbert responded, regarding his absence from Herbology classes starting this year. “Hasn’t exactly lightened my workload any more, though.”

“At least you aren’t writing pages and pages about plants anymore,” Anne moaned, turning her head dramatically. “I’ve barely been keeping up with all of this homework. And I always keep up, you know that!”

“I do,” Gilbert chuckled. He ran his thumb fondly over the side of her cheek. 

Anne suddenly remembered what she had been meaning to ask him - she hadn’t gotten him alone since the start of term feast. She shot up suddenly, causing him to raise his eyebrows expectantly. 

“I meant to ask,” Anne started. “What do you think about all of this tournament stuff?”

Gilbert took on the same face from before - something akin to contemplation. “Well, first I should hope that there will be no handsome Durmstrang men who happen to like redhe-”

“Shut up,” Anne interrupted, pushing him playfully. 

Gilbert shrugged. “Well, I don’t know.”

Anne knew what that meant. She straightened up to look him right in the eyes. “You’re not.”

“I might.”

“Gilbert!” Anne said, exasperated. “I don’t want to spend my entire year worrying about you. _Again.”_

His eyes flickered almost apologetically at that, but only for a moment. “Anne, have you thought about what this tournament could mean for me? Or for you, for that matter?”

Anne only looked back at him ambivalently. 

“I’m not exactly the richest wizard in the world,” he started, his voice a bit lower than normal, as if he was uncomfortable in broaching the topic to begin with. “And a thousand galleons could make a big difference for me and my dad, especially after last year.”

Anne slumped with realization. She scooted next to him to drop her head onto his shoulder in silent resignation.

“Have you considered it?” Gilbert asked quietly. 

Anne hesitated. Had she, really? She had been so sure that it would be Gilbert, and that the champion would face imminent death, that she had been only focused on him. 

Gilbert withdrew from her to meet her eyes. “Anne, I know that you don’t have that much money left from your parents,” he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “You could use that prize money too. And you’re clever, and strong, and entirely as capable of doing this as I am.”

“What’s your play,” Anne questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you want less competition for the Hogwarts spot?” 

He pressed his lips to hers in response, and warmth immediately spread through her like wildfire. 

“No, I don’t mind if it’s you.”

The common room was full on the last Saturday of September. The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving that night, and there was great anticipation among the students, especially in regards to who would be entering their names into the Goblet of Fire.

“It’s true!” Charlie was saying, sunk halfway into one of the squashy armchairs in the common room. “Would I lie about this?”

“Yes!” Anne, Diana, and Cole replied in unison. Charlie had been telling them about his girlfriend. Charlie’s was a half blood, but he had spent his summer at Muggle summer camp, and apparently found his soulmate. 

“If she’s real, Charlie,” Cole said, “then how come she hasn’t written to you at all?”

“She’s a _Muggle_ ,” Charlie said irritably. “She can’t use an owl!”

“Okay, then why hasn’t she sent mail to your house?” Anne questioned. “Your parents could have passed it along.”

“What don’t you all understand about forbidden love?” Charlie moaned. “Only you guys know about this!”

“That’s the truth,” Diana snickered. “I doubt that she even knows about it.”

Charlie stared daggers at her as the rest of them laughed. 

The door to the common room swung open suddenly, and Delphine Lacroix stumbled in, looking as if she’d just run a mile. A couple of other third years accompanied her, clutching their sides and breathing heavily. 

“They’re arriving now, outside the castle!” Delphine called out. The entirety of Ravenclaw house went barreling towards her - the third years yelped and set off again - to rush to the front of the school. Anne had to grab hold of Diana’s robes to keep from losing her in the crowd, and was fairly certain that she had stepped on Charlie’s foot more than once on the way out. 

When they all filtered out in front of the castle, most of the school was already occupying the front lawn. Anne caught sight of what they were gawking at just as it landed - a powder blue carriage, enormous enough to fit Hagrid’s hut inside three times over. Enormous, broad-shouldered horses were pulling it, their coats gleaming gold. 

Many students clapped, but the applause faded to intrigued whispers as the carriage door opened. An enormous woman emerged, and twenty or so students wearing matching pale blue robes followed quickly behind her. Dumbledore strode bravely towards the woman, who was nearly twice as tall as him, and shook her massive hand politely.

“Madame Maxime, how wonderful to see you,” Dumbledore said, leading her towards the castle. 

“Ah, Dumbly-dorr,” she crooned back in a thick French accent, but Anne couldn’t make out the rest of what she said as they disappeared inside. The Beauxbatons students trailed behind, shivering as the sun was setting over the lake.

“Wow,” Charlie said, staring open-mouthed at a pair of blonde French girls. 

Cole reached over and pushed his mouth shut. “What about your Muggle girlfriend, Charlie?”

Charlie opened his mouth to protest but his voice was drowned out by the voices of the students, calling out again. 

“Look, over there!”

“In the Black Lake!”

All the students turned their attention to the lake, where an enormous ship was surfacing from the black waves. It glided to the shore, and a tall, hard-faced man stepped down to the bank. His students, all burly and sullen in his image, followed closely as he marched up to the castle. They were all wearing thick furs, and Anne got the impression that Durmstrang was somewhere very cold. Dumbledore had appeared again, and was hurrying over to their Headmaster.

“Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore greeted.

“Dumbledore,” Karkaroff responded with a grin, shaking his hand.

The Durmstrang students were making their way up to the castle, glancing apprehensively at the Hogwarts students, who just stared curiously back. They hurried in after them, all of the students headed towards the Great Hall.

Anne seated herself at the Ravenclaw table, frowning slightly when she saw that the Beauxbatons students had inhabited the end of it nearest to the door. As she passed, she felt a bit intimidated by them - the girls were all very pretty and the boys quite handsome. Most of their voices were in hushed French, though she heard some of them spoke unaccented English, and wondered what parts of the world Beauxbatons students came from.

They found their seats, chatter still filling the hall. The Durmstrang students seated themselves at the Slytherin table, everyone squishing in to make room. Anne felt slightly gratified at the sight of Josie Pye hanging halfway off her seat when a group of Durmstrang students decided to sit right beside her and Billy.

The ghosts glided into the hall suddenly, which caused the Beauxbatons students to jump in surprise. A couple of them were staring, unimpressed; a few watched in vague interest. The Durmstrang students seemed a bit more intrigued as the Bloody Baron swept past in his usual supercilious fashion. 

The enchanted ceiling showed the glowing sunset sky dissipate into darkness. The Great Hall seemed even noisier than usual, loud whispers about the newcomers echoing across the room. Two large chairs had been arranged to either side of Dumbledore’s usual seat - the left one being noticeably larger - and Madame Maxime and Karkaroff occupied them. Dumbledore had stood to address the now crowded hall.

“Welcome to our visiting students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang,” Dumbledore began warmly. Anne caught a glimpse of a couple of Beauxbatons girls whispering and smirking to each other at the end of the table, and she felt the strong urge to tell them to shut up and listen. “We are delighted to have your company for the year, and hope that you will find Hogwarts to be a home for you all as we enjoy the festivities of the Triwizard Tournament.

“As you all know, the three schools will offer up champions to compete in three tasks over the course of the year,” Dumbledore continued. “If you are in the sixth year at Hogwarts, or currently 16 or older, for non Hogwarts students, then you are permitted to put your name in the Goblet of Fire. Tomorrow night, we will reassemble, and the Goblet will select the champions from each school who will compete. You are free to begin entering names as soon as the feast concludes.”

With a flourish of his wand, food appeared before them. Among the usual British delicacies were various dishes that Anne hadn’t seen before, which she assumed were added for the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. They ate hungrily, discussing their suspicions for who would be entering.

“Bet it’s gonna be a Gryffindor,” Charlie said grumpily.

“It could be anyone,” Diana replied sternly, putting some potatoes on her plate. 

“They do seem to think they’ve got a good shot between the lot of them,” Cole said, eyeing the Gryffindor table behind them.

“Well, Ravenclaw has plenty of contenders,” Anne offered.

“I reckon all of us should give it a go,” Cole agreed, serving himself some sort of French dish. “Wouldn’t it be great to have a Ravenclaw win it?”

“Doubt that any of us would beat out Golden Boy,” Charlie mumbled, nodding in Gilbert’s direction. Several Gryffindors were clapping him on the back jauntily as if he’d already been declared the Hogwarts champion.

“Still worth a shot,” Diana said, to Anne’s surprise. She was sure that the Barrys would have Diana on the next train home if they caught wind of her competing in an extremely dangerous wizarding tournament. From the glazed look in Diana’s eye, Anne assumed that this was exactly the sort of response that she sought.

“Well then, we’re agreed?” Anne confirmed. “We’ll all put our names in, just to see.”

“And may the best wizard win,” Charlie grinned. 

Anne’s eyes shifted down to the end of their table. A few Beauxbatons girls were speaking to each other in hushed voices and casting calculating glances across the room. She realized that several students had finished, and were looking up at Dumbledore, who had emerged with a large box. 

“If I could have your attention one last time,” Dumbledore called, silencing the hall once more. “If you wish to submit yourself to be considered as a champion, you need only write your name on a piece of parchment and drop it into the Goblet of Fire. In doing so, you are bound to your promise, and if you are chosen, you will have no choice but to participate. Good night.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he uncovered the box, which contained a glittering goblet with dancing flames spilling out from its brim. He carried it out to the entrance hall, hundreds of eyes watching wistfully as he went. The platters before them cleared, and students began standing up hurriedly and looking around, as if daring each other to be the first to enter. 

Anne was the first among her friends to start towards the entrance hall; many other students had begun hurrying in that direction. Most were sixth and seventh years or students from the other schools, although a few younger students hurried in to watch. 

The entrance hall had been illuminated entirely by electric blue light. The flickering flames cast long shadows down the hall as the students dispersed, forming a large circle around the goblet. A thin white line had already been drawn in a two meter radius around it.

A fourth year Gryffindor, snickering with his friends, approached the line boldly. He reached a foot over the line, the sole of his shoe hovering above the floor - nothing happened. 

“What an idiot,” Anne muttered to Diana beside her. “Does he really not understand Age Lines?”

As if on cue, the fourth year dropped his foot to the floor within the circle drawn by the Age Line, and was blown backwards by an incorporeal force. His friends, crowded behind him, cushioned his fall as they went tumbling backwards. Several students laughed knowingly - they were all wise enough not to challenge Dumbledore’s Age Line.

A Durmstrang student stepped forward, clearly much older. He stepped over the line bravely, clutching a slip of paper in his hand. He was not exploded backwards, and dropped his name in the fire successfully, the paper sizzling as the blue flames engulfed it.

“Alright, Fred!” several Durmstrang students whooped and clapped him on the back as he returned to them, grinning.

A group of Gryffindors came sauntering forward, and dispersed to reveal Gilbert among them. One of them pushed him towards the Goblet, he stumbled forward, sending them a lopsided grin. Some of the Hogwarts students were clapping for him before he’d even put his name in.

Gilbert withdrew a slip of paper from his pocket. Anne bit her lip, watching as he reached towards the flaming goblet. His eyes met hers then, and she saw the blue fire reflected in them. His brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded just slightly at her, as if to provide reassurance. 

Then he released the paper, and the hall whooped and cheered as it shriveled in the fire.

More and more students approached the goblet. After Gilbert, a very beautiful Beauxbatons girl with tight blonde curls put her name in; then it was Ruby Gillis, and then Priscilla Grant. Two dark haired Durmstrangs stepped forward, and then a handsome Beauxbatons boy. Alice, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, ventured forward, and then Josie Pye and Billy Andrews, sending challenging looks their way.

Cole and Charlie approached together, dropping their slips into the fire and watching as the smoke curled up from them. 

Gilbert was still hanging by the edge of the room with Jerry, leaning against the wall and watching. He looked Anne’s way, his eyes flickering between her and the goblet.

She shook her head slightly. At dinner, she had been confident about entering her name; but now, with half the school watching, she wasn’t so sure if she was cut out for a spotlight like this. Who was she to represent all of Hogwarts at the tournament? Quidditch was much easier - the crowd was far away, and she was moving so fast that they were all a distant blur. But if she could hardly stand having eyes on her now, how could she ever be champion?

Gilbert frowned slightly, and Anne could read his expression, she already knew what he’d say, what he’d already said. _You’re just as capable as me_ . _You deserve it just as much as anyone else_.

She fished a slip out of her pocket, and she could feel his eyes on her as she scrawled “Anne Shirley-Cuthbert” across it in clear writing. She could hear Diana doing the same beside her, and when she straightened, they met each other’s eyes, each offering a reassuring smile. Then, hand in hand, they stepped over the Age Line.

Anne dropped her name into the fire and stood there a moment, watching the paper turn over in the fire and eventually burn to ash.

Anne straightened, facing the crowd. She picked out Diana and Cole’s faces, looking at her encouragingly. She stepped forward; she was on the Quidditch pitch, except it was empty. The stands were there, full with watching eyes, but the hoops were gone, and she was alone. Withdrawing her wand from her pocket, she readied herself.

A shadow fell over the pitch, and Anne turned, trying to find where it was coming from, but suddenly everything was darkening and morphing; the stands vanished, replaced by towering dark trees.

Anne recognized her surroundings as they came into focus. She was in the Forbidden forest, in that same clearing as she’d been in last year. She could hear a voice, echoing distantly, but the words were incoherent. Her blood went cold.

She turned around, trying to locate the voice, but sank to her knees. It was Gilbert, contorting under the Cruciatus Curse. Someone was laughing callously - a cloaked figure clutching a wand was standing over him. He raised the crooked wand, directing it straight at Gilbert, a flash of green light emitting from its end…

“ _Anne!”_ Diana hissed. She felt her hand shaking her, and then opened her eyes quickly. She was sweating, but above her was the ceiling of the dormitory, and when she turned her head, she saw only Diana, looking concerned.

“Nightmare?” she asked timidly.

“Er - yeah, I guess,” Anne said, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes, but it’s fine,” Diana said with a shrug. “I sleep lightly. And it’s morning anyways, we can just eat early.”

Anne murmured in agreement and pulled her robes on. Though she had wanted to ask about it, by the time that she and Diana left the dormitory, her memory of the dream had entirely faded.

Classes that day were packed with a tense anticipation for what the night would hold. Anne had Potions and Transfiguration that day, and her tiredness didn’t help with the already overbearing work. Snape was particularly snippy, and Anne felt him hovering over her shoulder vigilantly, as if waiting for her to slip up. She eventually did, stirring counterclockwise instead of clockwise after adding lacewings to her draught, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly, as if he had predicted it.

In Transfiguration, they were reviewing Vanishing Spells, which they had learned the year before. Anne was quite strong in Transfiguration, but even she had difficulty in getting her mouse to disappear; it took her six tries. Diana did it in twelve, Cole in fourteen- Charlie succeeded only in turning his a shimmering clear color before it scampered off his desk.

Everyone was much more concerned with discussing the Goblet of Fire and the results that they would all find out that night. Anne and Diana spent their lunch hour in the library, trying to finish the last of their homework before class that afternoon. Flitwick had assigned a lengthy essay, and they had just barely scrawled the last few lines of theirs by the time they had to speed off to his class.

By the end of the day, Anne had heard so much chatter about the Triwizard Tournament that part of her wanted to know the results just so everyone would shut up about it. 

“Everyone reckons it’ll be Gilbert,” said Charlie loftily as they finished dinner at the Ravenclaw table that evening. “But the Slytherins are hoping it’s Billy.”

“Eugh,” Cole recoiled. “That slimy git representing us? No, I’d rather _Josie_ over him.”

“I think Gilbert or Ruby would do well,” Diana said thoughtfully. “But I’d love someone from Ravenclaw.”

“You should’ve convinced him not to enter,” Charlie said, elbowing Anne meaningfully. “Then we’d all have much more of a shot, eh?”

“I don’t control him!” Anne said defensively.

“Bet you could,” Charlie responded. He took on a mockingly high voice. “Oh Gilbert, it would mean the world to me if you let my good friend Charlie be the Hogwarts champi - _OW!_ Jeez, Anne, I’m only joking,” he added, rubbing his ankle where Anne had kicked him under the table. 

Silence fell over the hall. Dumbledore was walking down the center of the room towards the front, carrying the goblet. It was still glowing with blue fire. 

“The Goblet will now select our champions,” Dumbledore said, his voice echoing across the room. “If chosen, you will proceed to hall behind me” - he gestured to a chamber behind the staff table - “where you will receive further instructions. Now, I know that you are all aware that this Triwizard Tournament will be unlike others. You will come to realize what I mean in a moment.”

Anne cast an unnerved glance at Diana, but they said nothing. The goblet was now burning brighter, its flames turning a deep red. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, until something shot out of it. Dumbledore reached a hand out, and it landed in his grasp. A few whispers broke out among the crowd, but they faded away as Dumbledore unfurled the item - a charred piece of parchment - and read aloud.

“The champion for Durmstrang - Stella Maynard!”

The Durmstrang students cheered loudly, and a dark haired girl leapt to her feet, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. She strode down the hall, everyone clapping politely as she went. Dumbledore shook her hand, pointing her in the direction of the chamber, and she disappeared. 

The fire burned red again, and a second piece of paper flew out of it. Dumbledore caught it as it fluttered down. “The champion for Beauxbatons - Roy Gardner!”

A very handsome boy stood from the end of the Ravenclaw table, smiling widely. He made his way towards the front, briefly catching Anne’s eye - she could have sworn that he winked as he passed - he too, shook Dumbledore’s hand and disappeared into the chamber.

This time when the fire burned red, Anne could practically feel the anticipation in the room. There had been twice as many people who had put their name in the Goblet of Fire for Hogwarts - and she realized, suddenly, that it was entirely possible that her name would come out of it in a moment.

Charlie was tripping over himself, almost knocking Cole over with how far he was leaning forward. Cole practically didn’t notice - he was equally intrigued with the results, and Anne could tell he hoped it would be him. 

There was a gasp as a third parchment flew from the fire, and Dumbledore clutched it in his hand, looking up into the crowd serenely as he unfolded it.

“The Hogwarts champion - Gilbert Blythe!” 

The loudest cheers came from the Gryffindor table, but most of the Hogwarts students were whooping and yelling as Gilbert stood with a grin and made his way to the front. Anne watched silently as he disappeared into the chamber, a mix of relief, fear, and nerves in her stomach.

It wasn’t her. Of course it wasn’t her. Everyone had known that it would be Gilbert anyways. Anne confirmed this with the sulky look on Charlie’s face.

“Well, there goes the chance of a Ravenclaw champion,” Cole said, his face set in a poorly concealed scowl. 

“Come on,” Diana prodded him. “We all like Gilbert!”

Charlie and Cole seemed unhappy to admit this truth, staring longingly at the place where Gilbert and the other champions had just disappeared.

Everyone had begun talking loudly about the three champions, already placing bets on who they expected to win and guessing their strengths and weaknesses. But Dumbledore was still standing very calmly before the goblet - he hadn’t spoken again. 

Shouldn’t he be going to meet the champions in the chamber? Didn’t they have instructions to receive?

Anne was about to ask Diana this, but before the words could leave her lips, the noise died down. The goblet had glowed red once more, and burned now even taller and brighter than it had previously. 

Dumbledore looked unfazed by this. In fact, it seemed that he was perfectly aware of what was happening as not one but three pieces of parchment went shooting out of the Goblet, landing in his hands. Several students, including Anne, stood for a better view.

“The second champions for each school,” Dumbledore said evenly. “For Durmstrang, Fred Wright. For Beauxbatons, Winifred Rose. And for Hogwarts, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working on having longer chapters, more like this one! I know this chapter has some twists and there's some implications to what will happen later, so let me know your thoughts!


	5. Speechless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert deal with the aftermath of becoming the joint Hogwarts champions.

Anne sat down immediately, but it was futile; hundreds of faces were turning towards her and the other two students in painful silence. This couldn’t be happening, this was a  _ mistake _ , she was sure of it. It was the Triwizard Tournament - doesn’t the  _ name  _ sort of clarify how many champions would be competing?

“Anne,” Diana hissed, lifting her by the arm. She caught Cole’s eye - there was a mixture of shock and excitement in his face.

Anne stood slowly, staring at Dumbledore as if waiting for him to inform her that this was some sort of joke, but he just nodded to her. She attempted to avoid the eyes of everyone watching her, but it seemed there was a pale face of confusion everywhere she looked.

The room was still dimly lit by the Goblet of Fire. The two others whose names had been called, Fred Wright of Durmstrang and Winifred Rose of Beauxbatons, were walking towards Dumbledore eagerly. They seemed much less alarmed, even relieved, that they had been chosen too.

Diana gave her another prompting push, and Anne stumbled forward, shuffling towards Dumbledore in a fashion that was very un-champion like. She reached him last, shaking his hand wearily, searching his eyes for some explanation but receiving none.

“I think we would’ve been better off with just the  _ one  _ champion,” she heard Josie whisper rather loudly to an audience of giggling Slytherin girls as she passed.

There was slightly more noise in the hall now, but it was whispers, not applause. Anne was just as bewildered as they were as she followed the other two into the chamber where the three original champions had disappeared.

They had entered a room lined with portraits of witches and wizards. Inside, Stella was pacing, and Roy was leaning against the wall. Gilbert had seated himself on a step, but stood immediately as they entered, looking confusedly at Anne. She shrugged helplessly.

Winifred moved straight over to Roy; they immediately began muttering to each other. Anne and Fred followed - she wanted to explain to Gilbert what had just happened, but she was interrupted as Dumbledore strode in, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff at his heels. Anne could only grip Gilbert’s hand as if it was tethering her to reality, turning grimly to Dumbledore. 

“Well, first a congratulations is in order for our six champions,” Dumbledore began.

“Six!” Roy refuted him immediately. “I don’t think we were informed of that detail, actually! There were always  _ three  _ champions, you said it yourself-”

“Well, Mr. Gardner, I don’t believe I ever did say that each school would have one sole champion, although I can understand where the misconception would come from,” Dumbledore responded politely. 

“Professor Karkaroff?” Stella said exasperatedly, turning to her Headmaster for an explanation. Karkaroff looked resolutely to Dumbledore, clearly just as aware of this rule change.

“The Ministry believes that these challenges posed such a threat to the champions in part because they had to perform each task alone,” Dumbledore answered, ignoring the incredulous faces of the champions. “So, when the idea was proposed to reinstate the tournament, it was agreed that each school could put forth a pair of students to compete together.”

“You’d think they’d tell us that,” Fred grumbled under his breath.

Anne felt that she may be grasping Gilbert’s hand so tightly that it was rather uncomfortable for him, but he remained silent, looking straight at Dumbledore. 

“So we’re competing with the other champion from our school in each task?” Winifred asked in confirmation, casting a glance at Roy. 

“Precisely,” Dumbledore replied. “Now, the Goblet of Fire has selected its champions - two from each of the three schools - and you are all magically bound to compete. There is no turning back now.”

“Anne, you’re cutting off my circulation,” Gilbert finally whispered under his breath, and Anne hastily released her grip on his hand. She had known about the magical contract that would be formed when she entered her name, but now that she was standing here, looking at the other champions beside her, she felt a lump in her throat. 

She looked up at Gilbert, and he returned her gaze, something comforting in his eyes that made Anne’s stomach settle a bit.

“Now, we’ll be having two additional judges to join the panel to overlook the competition and score you on each task. They will arrive in time for the first task,” Dumbledore said vaguely. “It is designed to test your nerve and your ability to adapt in the face of danger. You will not be allowed anything except your wands and your partners, and you will not know what the task is ahead of time.”

Anne’s heart sank once again. How were they supposed to prepare for a task with no idea of what they were up against? She had Gilbert, at least - she wouldn’t have to do this alone - but still, what match were they for whatever treacherous task they’d be up against? And would it be made even more dangerous now that there were two of them to complete it?

“The first task will be at the end of November - the twenty-seventh. You will not be permitted any help from teachers or other students, or your Headmasters” - Anne thought Dumbledore’s eyes may have flicked to Maxime and Karkaroff, but no one else seemed to notice - “and so you may only consult your partner.”

Dumbledore straightened, looking to the other Headmasters. “I believe that’s all - any words, Igor? Olympe?”

They shook their heads wordlessly. 

“Well then, you may all proceed back to your dormitories or places of stay,” Dumbledore said with a merry smile. 

The champions only spoke to their partners on the way out, splitting immediately as if they were all already at odds with one another. 

“What on earth happened out there?” Gilbert asked once they were out of earshot of the other champions. 

“As soon as you left, the Goblet spat out three more names,” Anne responded, trying to decipher the emotion on his face. “All he said was that we were also champions, and then sent us in there with you.”

She was relieved to see his face split into a grin. “So then it’s me and you, Carrots?”

“Seems that way,” Anne smiled, for the first time since she’d heard her name shouted across the Great Hall.

It seemed strange, almost too good, that she should somehow have ended up paired with Gilbert. Because really there was no one else she would rather face this with in the world.

They reached the point where their paths would ordinarily split; Gilbert would head right towards the Gryffindor tower, and Anne left towards the Ravenclaw tower. But Gilbert stopped, taking both of Anne’s hands in his.

“Don’t worry, okay?” Gilbert said comfortingly. He seemed to have picked up on Anne’s general mood about the tournament while Dumbledore had been explaining everything. She was relieved to see he was not at all mad at her for taking his spotlight. “We can do this. Roy Gardner’s dumb as rocks, and Stella seems a bit brash as well. The others, who knows… but between us, we’ve got smarts, bravery… a knack for finding danger.” He smiled weakly. 

“You’re right, I know,” Anne said, leaning forwards into his chest. He wrapped his arms obligingly around her. “Can’t be any harder than fighting a Dark wizard, right?”

Gilbert chuckled, albeit a bit forcedly, and they said goodnight, both of them sincerely hoping that was true.

The next few days were a bit difficult for Anne. Most of the Hogwarts students were still confused as to why there were two champions; the Gryffindors felt a bit cheated out of the glory of having a sole champion, while the Ravenclaws were delighted that Anne would represent their House in the tournament. Everywhere she went, she was followed by whispers, glares, or congratulations. She couldn’t decide which was worse. 

Her classes had become extremely difficult, but Anne was glad to have them to occupy herself. It was much easier to forget about the looming concept of the first task when she had mountains of Charms homework to practice, a new essay every week from Snape, and wand movements to master for Transfiguration. 

Professor Stacy’s class remained one of Anne’s favorites - although this year, they regrettably had a mix of several houses in their class because of the fewer number of students taking N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts. The mixed classes meant that she’d get to see Gilbert, Jerry, and Ruby - but also Josie and Billy.

Anne hurried alongside Diana as they made their way towards Professor Stacy’s room in the afternoon, clutching their smokey textbooks. They had been reviewing some of their content from last year, and were only just moving on to their new curriculum today. Both of them were excited to see what Professor Stacy had finally planned.

“So,” Anne said as they walked side by side. She hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to Diana alone in a while. “Are you going to tell me what happened with Jerry?”

“What?” Diana snapped, more irritable than Anne expected. “There’s nothing to tell, there is no me and Jerry.”

Anne frowned. “But I thought you liked him so much?”

Diana stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall, causing a first year who had been walking behind Anne to crash into her, apologizing as she scampered away. 

“Jerry and I don’t make any sense,” Diana said, grimacing. 

Anne took note of the fact that those words didn’t seem like Diana’s as she followed her into Professor Stacy’s room. The curtains had been drawn open, as they usually were on nice days, and sunlight filtered in through open windows. The tables had been scooted off to the side so that there was a wide aisle of space across the classroom - Anne smiled widely at this, knowing it meant that they’d be getting some actual wandwork in today.

Professor Stacy wasn’t in the room yet, but several students had congregated among the desks, chatting idly - although Anne regretted to see that Josie was among them. She was speaking with Tillie Boulter and Jane Andrews, but turned her head towards Anne as she and Diana slipped in, sitting atop a table that had been pushed to the edge of the room.

“Well, Ravenclaw’s pathetic excuse for a celebrity,” Josie called her way. Jane and Tillie looked on, saying nothing as always.

“Do you ever mind your own business, Josie?” Anne muttered.

“Apparently now your business is all of ours, since you’re supposed to be our great champion, right?” Josie piped back, a derisive smile on her face. Anne wondered if Josie might be pretty if she wasn’t sneering all the time. 

“Josie, enough,” Diana frowned. 

“It’s not my fault the Goblet chose me and not you,” Anne retorted sourly, her temper getting the best of her. The smile disappeared from Josie’s face for a brief moment. 

“Lucky that Dumbledore’s made a special rule so that we can have another Hogwarts champion out there to save your skin,” she went on, regaining her composure. “If Blythe wasn’t out there, I’d seriously think our chances were next to nothing.”

“I think we’ll be just fine, but thanks for your concern,” came a steely voice. Gilbert had appeared, passing Josie without even glancing her way. Jerry was right behind him, and Anne wondered if this was the reason that they took seats at the edge of the room. 

Josie seemed suppressed by Gilbert’s words, but she shot Anne a look that made it clear that this wouldn’t be the end of it. Anne just rolled her eyes exhaustedly in response. 

“It’s not as if I knew there would be two champions,” Anne mumbled to Diana as more students filed in and their conversation was drowned by other noise in the room. “You’d think Dumbledore would’ve mentioned that.”

“You know Dumbledore,” Diana whispered back. “A bit of a flair for the dramatic. Anyways, aren’t you glad to have someone to compete with you? Someone that you know is on your side, who has your back…”

Anne looked up at her with a hint of confusion on her face, but her eyes were directed at the corner of the room, where Gilbert and Jerry were talking.

“Just tell me what’s up with Jerry!” Anne pleaded.

“Who said anything about him!” Diana said hotly, turning her attention back to Anne.

“How long is this gonna go before you just tell me what happened?”

Diana shifted uncomfortably in her seat, saved when Professor Stacy came striding into her classroom from the back, her wand already out. She flicked it meaningfully as she approached the front and their textbooks sprang onto their desks.

“Good to see you all,” she said warmly. “Today we will begin the curriculum for N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts. I know you are all aware already that in this class you will endeavor to perform much more difficult magic, so I won’t bore you with that. However, I think your textbook serves as an indication to the importance of this class.

“By now you will have probably noticed that it has flesh memories - and only opens to your touch. These types of spells are what witches and wizards have relied on throughout history to protect sensitive information from the wrong eyes,” Professor Stacy said seriously. “Now it may just be your textbook, but it could just as easily be top secret Ministry information, or perhaps… a love letter, Miss Boulter?”

Tillie Boulter straightened up immediately, turning a deep red. A Hufflepuff boy had been handing her a folded up note. Professor Stacy eyed her sternly, but did not read the note to the class as Anne was sure a less forgiving professor like Snape might.

Professor Stacy swished her wand and the letter was reduced to ashes. Tillie sat very still in her seat, staring ahead, but Stacy just went on.

“Open to page sixteen,” she said smoothly.

Anne reached for her textbook - she could practically feel the cool smoke on her fingertips, and then the cover sprang open autonomously. The words were scrawled in dark ink - spells Anne had never learned before, each page holding some new and interesting piece of information. She flipped rather slowly to page sixteen, though somewhat distracted by the intrigue of pages 1-15.

“Nonverbal spells,” Professor Stacy said, pacing the front of the room. “You’ve seen them plenty of times, and perhaps you haven’t even given them a thought before. And yet, this is one of the most powerful ways to overcome an opponent - although quite difficult to learn. Can anyone tell me why?”

Cole’s hand raised, and Professor Stacy nodded. “Because your opponent doesn’t know what spell to expect ahead of time,” he said.

“Precisely, 5 points to Ravenclaw,” she replied, and Charlie elbowed Cole proudly. “If you manage to master nonverbal spells, you will be a force to be reckoned with against any opponent. They may not know what’s coming to them until it’s… happened,  _ Mr. Turner!” _

With a quick movement of her wand, Professor Stacy sent a Hufflepuff, Richie Turner falling out of his seat. He’d been leaning forward to whisper something again to Tillie - who seemed to have learned her lesson, because she was staring straight ahead - and suddenly tripped over his feet and landed on the ground.

Everyone laughed as Richie dusted himself off and scrambled back into his seat, turning pink in the ears.

“The trip jinx,” Professor Stacey explained, giving him an austere look. “Performed nonverbally, so that Mr. Turner had no warning of what was coming until it happened. Perhaps maybe this will teach him to  _ pay attention _ .”

Richie gave a bashful look of affirmation.

“And, of course, this shows how easy it is for an enemy to catch you off guard,” Professor Stacy went on darkly. “Should that trip jinx have been an Unforgivable curse - well, Mr. Turner would not have been able to defend himself. It is my hope that you would never need to protect yourselves from such magic, but I still feel it’s my duty to inform you what’s out there.”

The laughter had ebbed away, and the entire class’s eyes were fixed on Professor Stacey with quiet interest. Anne felt a bit ill, wondering if that was the kind of thing she might have to face in just a few weeks time.

“We’ll be starting with quite a simple spell, one you all know,” Professor Stacey said, breaking the contemplative silence. “To disarm your opponent. Read the textbook about how to perform nonverbal spells, and I’ll pair you off in a moment to practice. And remember - even if I can’t hear the incantation, I will most certainly know if you attempt any spell other than  _ Expelliarmus _ .” 

Anne turned her attention to her book, tracing the printed words. It seemed simple enough - speak the incantation in your head, loudly and clearly, focusing all your energy on the spell. With the right combination of focus and wand movement, the spell could be performed wordlessly. 

She looked towards the front, at the back of Gilbert’s head. He was still reading. Every time she saw him now, she was reminded of what they would have to be doing soon, and her stomach twisted uncomfortably. 

“Anne,” Diana whispered. “You done?”

“Yeah.”

“Partner up with me?”

“Duh,” Anne grinned.

But their hopes were both shattered when Professor Stacey cleared her throat for their attention and announced, “I’ll be pairing you for this activity - it’s better performed with people you aren’t accustomed to facing, so you can focus on the spell and simulate the circumstances of a duel.”

Anne wanted to catch her eye to plead that she not do what she was about to do, but Professor Stacy simply went on: “Jerry with Tillie, Ruby with Charlie, Billy with Gilbert, Diana with Jane, Cole with Moody…”

_ Please no, _ Anne thought hopelessly as Gilbert and Billy traded looks of disgust.

“... Helena with Jack, Anne with Josie…” 

_ Of course. _

Diana gave Anne a pat of sympathy before heading off towards Jane, who she wasn’t especially fond of, but Anne sensed that she felt much worse for her. 

Anne and Josie stood and shuffled towards the aisle, trading a loathing glare before pulling out their wands.

“Let me reiterate,” Professor Stacy said, casting a specifically strong look at Gilbert and Billy, who Anne thought was the only pairing more disaster-prone than hers. “ _ Only Expelliarmus _ . Don’t be concerned if it won’t work right away, these things take a lot of practice, and vary based on spell and even wand wood… anyways, go ahead and begin.”

Josie flicked her wand aggressively at Anne immediately as the word passed Professor Stacy’s lips, but Anne’s wand remained very firmly in her hand. Anne stifled a laugh as Josie looked murderously at her.

“Wonderful job, Josie,” Anne muttered and poised for action. She focused strongly in her mind, the word echoing in her head as she gave a decisive jab of her wand -  _ Expelliarmus,  _ she thought as hard as she could, trying not to let the image of Josie glaring at her disturb her focus.

Josie’s wand slipped slightly, but she caught it before it left her hand. She smiled back. “Wow, what a champion we’ve got!”

“Shut up,” Anne said.

Josie performed the spell again, mimicking Anne’s jabbing motion and taking on a look of concentration that Anne thought made her look somewhat constipated. 

This time, however, Anne had to focus to keep her wand in her hand, and thought vaguely that she probably would have dropped it if she hadn’t had the reflexes of a Seeker. Josie looked very proud at this.

Anne heard some nasty words being traded over from Gilbert and Billy’s direction, but luckily Professor Shirley was helping Tillie at the moment. Anne turned her attention back to Josie, gripping her wand firmly, brandishing it -  _ EXPELLIARMUS. _

To her great delight, Josie’s wand skyrocketed into the air, landing several meters behind her. 

“Wow, Anne, good one!” Charlie called from down the room, and Gilbert and Diana threw her smiles of approval. 

“Well done, Anne, keep practicing,” Professor Stacy called as she turned her back again to help Jack, who was flailing his arms wildly each time he attempted the spell.

Josie retrieved her wand hotly, returning to her spot across from Anne. Before Anne could even ready herself again, she felt her feet twist strangely and she went flying onto her knees, Josie leering down at her proudly. She was suddenly quite aware of how unfavorable it was to be hit with an unknown nonverbal spell - she had fallen before she even registered that Josie was using her wand. Anne snapped her head over to Professor Stacy, but she hadn’t noticed Josie using the tripping jinx. Another advantage of nonverbal spells.

Scrambling to her feet, Anne felt anger bubbling to the surface, her temper rising. The emotion gave her fuel and focus, she stared into Josie’s challenging eyes, jabbed out her wand and thought -  _ FLIPENDO! _

Josie went tumbling backwards to the floor - but Cole had successfully disarmed his partner, the noise covering up Anne’s spell. Professor Stacy’s back was still turned, although many other students had caught on to what was happening and were staring at Anne and Josie instead. 

Josie’s face distorted with anger and she cast her wand back from the floor, Anne felt her feet moving wildly and she scowled as she recognized the dancing feet spell had just been cast on her. Josie and Billy laughed, but Anne was still controlled enough to send a nonverbal spell back -  _ RICTUSEMPRA! _

Suddenly Josie wasn’t just laughing, she was  _ cackling, _ her knees buckled and nearly everyone turned to face them, Professor Stacy included. 

“What in the  _ world  _ are you two doing!” Professor Stacy commanded. Anne guessed that it was quite a scene - her feet were still jerking in dance-like motions under her and Josie was sputtering with laughter on the floor. A couple of other students were stifling snickers, but Professor Stacy’s eyes were wide with horror. Even Gilbert and Billy had kept their bickering separate from their spellwork, and were now both staring at them with wide eyes.

With two decisive waves of her wand, Professor Stacy relinquished Anne’s feet from moving and Josie’s mouth snapped shut, hatred replacing the laughter in her eyes. 

“Can neither of you follow directions even  _ once!”  _ Professor Stacy shouted, her eyes flashing dangerously. 

Anne stuffed her wand in her pocket with embarrassment - Josie even looked ashamed, now that the room was silent and all eyes were on them. Anne caught Gilbert’s eye, and he smirked, looking almost proud that his troublemaking had caught on to her.

But Professor Stacy looked quite mad, and was opening her mouth to speak again - Anne was sure the words would be something along the lines of  _ detention for the next month _ \- but the door sprang open, and Minnie May burst in, her cheeks flushed from running. Diana’s eyebrows raised, but no one seemed to want to speak at the moment.

“What!” Professor Stacy turned on her, still quite heated.

Minnie May shrank back. “Oh, I’m - just - sorry, Professor, I was just sent to get the… the champions…”

“Gilbert, go,” Professor Stacy jerked her head at Gilbert, and he walked quickly to the door. “Anne Shirley is occupied right now.”

“I - I’m sorry,” Minnie May squeaked, looking as if this was her first time encountering Professor Stacy while mad. “They told me… I h-had to get both of them.”

Professor Stacy gave a long sigh. “Fine. Anne,  _ my office when you’re finished. _ Josie Pye, you can take a seat by my desk right now.”

Anne’s heart gave a triumphant flutter as Josie trudged to the front of the room while she got to escape with Gilbert, but the look on Professor Stacy’s face quashed the feeling as soon as it came. She hoped that Professor Stacy’s temper would settle by the time she returned, and slipped out the door after Gilbert and Minnie May. 

“They want you in the entrance hall,” Minne May said quickly and scurried off, clearly glad to have bestowed her message.

As soon as she left, Gilbert slung an arm around her with unabashed pride. “Brilliant, Anne-girl. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“Shut up,” Anne mumbled back as they walked, although her temper had finally ebbed away. “You’d have done the same if you heard what she’s been saying.”

“The look on Billy’s face,” Gilbert continued, grinning. “Priceless. Probably worth the week of detentions you’ll be serving now.”

Anne allowed herself to smile back apprehensively as they approached the entrance hall.

Gilbert’s arm fell from her shoulder, their mouths fell open with silent shock. In the entrance hall, the four other champions were waiting impatiently; beside them, Dumbledore and the Headmasters were speaking. And standing in front of them, smiling toothily and brandishing a notepad, Quick-Quotes quill hovering beside her, was Rita Skeeter.


	6. Star Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita Skeeter interviews the champions; Anne has to serve detention with Josie.

“Ah, our final two champions,” Dumbledore said kindly, waving over Gilbert and Anne, who were standing sort of stupidly at the edge of the hall. Anne gave a slight tug on Gilbert’s arm, and he followed stiffly.

Anne felt Rita Skeeter’s beetle eyes flitting between them, her Quick-Quotes quill poised. She had shiny blonde curled hair that was plastered in a bun to her head with an enormous amount of product. Her bejeweled spectacles magnified her small eyes to a normal size, and her red lipstick creased as she pursed her lips at them.

Anne knew Rita Skeeter. She had published half of the slanderous articles about John Blythe last year when he was in Azkaban. Half of the school avoided Gilbert in the halls for months because of what she wrote, and she had dirtied the Blythe name beyond recognition by the time that Gilbert’s father was finally acquitted.

“Wonderful,” she gushed, her quill moving as she spoke. “What a group…” 

“What’s she doing here,” Gilbert said bluntly. Stella and Roy looked vaguely surprised at this response, but it wasn’t unexpected to Anne.

“Rita will be ‘aving interviews with the champions,” Madame Maxime said with a frown. “Ze Daily Prophet, don’t you know?”

“Unfortunately I do,” Gilbert shot back, grabbing Anne’s hand and taking their place beside the others.

Dumbledore’s eyes flashed warningly at Gilbert, but he looked sympathetic. Rita Skeeter seemed to gloss over this entirely, although scribbling furiously in her notepad. 

“Pictures first,” she said finally, and they were all ushered into a classroom that had been filled with various backdrops and bright lights. “Individual shots  _ and  _ group shots, of course, my readers love a team - go on, get cozy!” 

Rita shunted the pairs closer to one another. Anne was pressed shoulder to shoulder between Roy and Gilbert, which the latter didn’t seem exactly happy about. Stella and Fred sat in front in tall golden chairs, and the Headmasters stood in the back, although Rita soon pulled them from the photos (likely because Madame Maxime required twice the headspace that anyone else did).

They took individual photos next, Anne feeling very small under all the lights by herself, especially with Skeeter calling out directions to her like “oh, smile, won’t you” or “chin up!”

“Well, ladies first,” Rita said once they finished with a reptilian smile. “I’ll have the Hogwarts champion now - Anne Shirley, was it?”

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” Gilbert muttered.

“Yes, that,” Rita responded, unperturbed. She had already seized Anne by the hand and was pulling her into the storage room off the classroom. “We won’t be long! Have Mr. Blythe ready to come in, soon as we’re done!”

Anne threw one last look at “Mr. Blythe” over her shoulder - he was the only one who seemed to hate this more than she did.

Skeeter closed the door behind them. The storage room was dark, only a dingy lightbulb overhead to illuminate them, and looked as if it had fallen into disrepair. The shelves were full of cobwebs and empty jars or tattered books. Rita pulled up two rickety looking chairs from the back and took a seat. 

“Well, sit!” she said, looking down at her notes. She brandished her wand and the chair went reeling into Anne’s legs, knocking her into it.

Anne didn’t want to look at her scrutinizing eyes, and instead stared at the green quill in her hands. Every now and then she would let it go to look pensively at her notes, and it would continue writing as if she was still holding it. 

“So, Miss Shirley,” Rita began coyly. “What made you decide to enter the Triwizard tournament? Was it to accompany your boyfriend, to protect him?”

“I - how do you know…” Anne frowned. The quill was scribbling intimidatingly as she spoke. “No, we didn’t even know there would be two champions.”

“Right, of course,” Rita smirked. “But… you just so happened to be paired with your boyfriend?”

“I suppose.”

Rita gave her a wink at this, and Anne felt a surge of annoyance.

“And how do you think his -  _ tragic  _ \- backstory will affect him in the tournament? Do you think he will be capable of overcoming these tasks? Or will his overwhelming trauma prevent him from-”

“Gilbert is perfectly capable,” Anne interrupted coolly. “I was under the impression that this interview would be about me, anyway.”

“Well, my readers would absolutely love this,” Rita said innocently. “The troubled boy, saved from his past of despair by his love for none other than his teammate!  _ Inspired _ .”

“I’d say you had a hand in his past of despair,” Anne muttered. The quill stood noticeably still at these words, and Anne guessed that its bewitchment prevented it from writing the uglier truths about Skeeter.

Skeeter wrinkled her nose. “I am a reporter. I reported about Mr. Blythe because it was  _ news _ . Not personal.”

“Not personal!” Anne said angrily. “You ruined Gilbert! His father’s reputation-”

“Next question,” Rita clicked her tongue, rapping her scarlet nails against her notepad. “How prepared do you feel for these tasks? Have you wondered if having Mr. Blythe with you will be a hindrance, given the status of your  _ … relationship _ ?”

Anne paused. She knew that Rita wanted a rise out of her - something quotable, something to stir drama with about them. But she made a perfectly valid point. Anne hadn’t stopped to consider if it would be a distraction, partnering with Gilbert, whom she’d be trying to protect constantly, rather than focusing on the task… 

“Of course not,” Anne lied. 

Rita looked slightly annoyed, but gave the quill a glance. Anne peered over at the notes it took down, and her jaw dropped.

**_Anne Shirley, 16, worries that her partner Gilbert’s haunted past may prevent their relationship from ever progressing. Meanwhile, there is a noticeable attraction between her and fellow Beauxbatons champion, Roy Gardner_ ** _ ,  _ **_whose eye has most certainly been caught by her._ **

“That’s ridiculous!” Anne fumed. “There is no attraction between me and that boy! Besides, I am  _ not  _ an accessory or an add-on! I’m just as strong of a competitor as any of the others!”

“Don’t mind that,” Rita said in a falsely sweet voice. “So, how do you feel about your fellow champions - the ones you aren’t involved with that is?”

Anne was about to open her mouth to haughtily explain that she was entirely  _ indifferent  _ about the other four champions and that her personal life with Gilbert was completely unrelated to the tournament when the door swung open. She squinted as the bright light from the classroom poured into the dingy storage room. 

“It’s been fifteen minutes.”

Gilbert stood there, leering down at Rita Skeeter, who, in contrast, looked positively elated. 

“Our star-crossed couple,” she beamed. “Won’t you stay for a moment, Miss Shirley, so I can speak to both of-”

“You’re done talking to her,” Gilbert interrupted loudly. “Dumbledore doesn’t want any of us in here for more than a quarter-hour. Says we’re too busy.” 

Rita looked crestfallen. Anne stepped out of the room, trading a look with Gilbert as he took her place. The door shut behind them. Anne could only imagine the awful questions Rita would ask him if her interview had been that bad. Yet, she felt a pang of annoyance at him... Rita had treated her as nothing but his silly girlfriend...

The other four champions were in chairs, looking impatient. The photos must have finished, because the equipment was packing itself up magically into bags. Anne caught Roy’s eye for a moment, who was gazing at her strangely. She remembered what Rita had said and averted her eyes uncomfortably. 

“Can I leave?” she asked Dumbledore, feeling very tired by this whole thing. “I was supposed to meet Professor Stacy.”

“Yes, you’re done,” he replied, and Anne headed straight for the door. Even Professor Stacy’s wrath seemed a bit better than spending one more minute around Rita Skeeter.

Anne walked quickly. The corridors were full of talking and smiling students, and Anne longed to be one of them. Instead, she had just been embarrassingly reduced to Gilbert’s sidekick by Rita and now was headed to Professor Stacy’s room to be yelled at some more. She tried to force down her temper, but she felt her cheeks heating up. 

“ _ The champions you’re not involved with, that is…” _

As if she was involved with anyone but Gilbert! And how he’d come in to bail her out. Anne almost felt angry with him too, for appearing like some white knight, like he  _ always  _ did… 

“Anne!” Diana called as she and Charlie approached cheerfully, their book bags still slung over their shoulders. “Did you finish with the interviews? Where’s Gilbert?”

“How should I know!” Anne said back, much louder and waspish than she intended. “You know, we’re separate people, okay!”

Diana frowned, and Charlie’s smile fell from his face, replaced by something almost fearful. “Of course, Anne, why would we ever think otherwise?”

She knew she was being unreasonable, but Rita Skeeter’s words and stupid Quick-Quotes quill were still dancing around Anne’s head. “I have to see Professor Stacy,” she mumbled as she pushed past them both.

She could feel their eyes boring into the back of her head until she turned the corner, faced suddenly with Stacy’s door. Pushing it open tentatively, her anger faded to nervousness. The look of disappointment etched into Professor Stacy’s face flashed in her head. 

But Professor Stacy was seated at her desk, bent over a third year’s essay on grindylows. Unfortunately, it looked like they weren’t doing so well, because there were thick red lines scoring through most of the second paragraph. 

“Sit,” she said blankly. Anne did.

Professor Stacy finished with the essay, and Anne waited in silence for a few minutes. Her eyes wandered to Professor Stacy’s wall. One of the pictures showed her and an old friend, playing Quidditch together. She didn’t realize that Stacy had played at all, but she and her friend were soaring across the frame; she was holding the Quaffle, the giddy expression on her face not unlike the one Anne wore whenever she flew.

“Anne,” Professor Stacy said finally. She looked tired. “Do you know why it upsets me that you’ve transgressed again in my class?”

“Because you expect more of me,” Anne said flatly.

Professor Stacy’s forehead creased. “No. Yes, but no. You know that when you act out in such a way, I’m forced to discipline you. And trust me, you will receive discipline.”

She stood, moving around the corner to sit on the edge of her desk, looking Anne in the eye. Anne met her gaze reluctantly.

“Now, every time you are in detention, you are wasting precious time. This competition is no joke, nor should you take it lightly. These tasks have killed people. The first task is always particularly monstrous. You’re up against something very difficult, even if you’ll have Gilbert with you.”

Anne’s face soured at the mention of Gilbert, who she was still a bit cross with for absolutely no reason other than Rita Skeeter’s asininity. 

“You should be preparing,” Professor Stacy continued, her face grim. “You should be paying attention in my class. You should be spending your evenings in the library or with Gilbert, planning how you will operate as a pair in a dangerous circumstance. You should  _ not  _ be wasting time and energy jinxing Josie Pye and serving a week of detentions for your stupidity, but here we are.”

Anne felt stung. Stacy’s voice was even, but she had never looked so disapproving. 

“I say all of these things because I want you to succeed,” Professor Stacy went on gently, making Anne feel even worse. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Anne responded quietly. 

“I’ll see you and Miss Pye in my room tomorrow evening, then.”

Anne left, feeling more horrible than she’d entered. Her anger seemed to magnify her worst thoughts, and she couldn’t control it now. She was an afterthought in this competition - Gilbert was the star. He always had been. Professor Stacy was upset with her, she’d just proved herself a screwup again. On top of that, she’d spend every evening of the next week with the girl who made her feel worst of all.

She turned the corner, headed back towards Ravenclaw common room. She was deciding exactly what horrible things she’d say to Rita Skeeter when she saw him barreling down the hall, more furious than she had even been, hands balled into fists and eyes dark.

Gilbert made it to her, and he looked so upset that Anne’s anger and resentment melted away. “Can I talk to you?” he managed to say, his voice cracking slightly. 

“Always,” Anne whispered.

  
  


It was storming, but they were outside anyways, sitting opposite each other on one of the courtyard steps. Anne stared into a puddle, which was reflecting the stormy gray of the evening sky. Their robes were getting wet, and her hair would be damp by the time she made it to Professor Stacy’s room, but she still had some time left, and wanted to spend it with him.

“She kept pressing about it,” Gilbert murmured. He’d told her about his interview the night before, but everything was vague and he had been so angry that he could barely get words out. “My dad. I expect she wanted to be the one to tie a ribbon on the whole story.”

“She’s foul,” Anne said acidly. 

“What did she ask you?” Gilbert asked suddenly. 

“About you,” Anne said, staring back at the courtyard. The sheets of rain had been reduced to a steady drizzle, and the muddy footprints of students attending their final classes had been worn away. 

Anne could see Gilbert frowning in her peripheral, but he said nothing for a moment. 

“You know I don’t think-”

“I know,” Anne said, still staring out at the sky, picking a cloud and watching it wander over the castle until it was out of sight. “It’s forgotten.”

The bell tower rang loudly; it was seven o’ clock. Gilbert stood slowly and offered her a damp hand. She took it.

“Don’t let her bother you,” he said with concern still in his eyes.

“I can handle her,” Anne said quietly back. He looked at her again, as if wanting to say something else, but just squeezed her hand and left. She knew he hadn’t really known how much she was in his shadow until just now, and sort of regretted faulting him so much for it the day before. 

Anne stared at his muddy footprints for a moment more before starting back inside herself, headed to Professor Stacy’s room. A few of the paintings howled in disgust as she tracked in some of the mud from outside, but she hurried to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room before they could attract Filch to the scene.

“Anne, great, you’re here,” Professor Stacy greeted airily as she walked in. Josie was sitting by her desk, and gave Anne an ugly look as she approached. “I was just explaining what you’ll be doing. I had a lesson today with the fifth years on doxys, and you know how they can be - the infestations are  _ terrible _ , so I’ll be having you two clear them out before they make it out of the room.”

Anne sat in the second chair in front of her desk, glancing at Josie, who looked equally displeased about this activity. 

“The bites are poisonous - oh come off it Josie, they’re just household pests - and I’ve left some antidote if you really need it, but they’re fairly slow, you shouldn’t have an issue. Just a spray of Doxycide in any curtains or areas where they may be hiding, that should knock them out - and you can leave them in this cage. If anything goes wrong, just come find me; otherwise, I’ll see you both in an hour.”

She swept out of the room, leaving Josie and Anne alone with a pair of spray bottles. Josie snatched one and turned her back on Anne immediately, heading to the far window. 

Anne rolled her eyes and grabbed the other one, setting to work on the curtains behind Professor Stacy’s window. Ridding them of doxys was easy enough, though they were nasty little things. They looked a lot like fairies, or cornish pixies maybe, with rows and rows of tiny teeth and buzzing wings. 

She moved slowly down the classroom. They lurked in most of the dark corners and spots, and Anne wrinkled her nose as she sprayed each one and levitated them into the cage Professor Stacy had left.

“Ugh! Ouch - Anne -  _ get it off!” _

Anne whipped around. Josie’s hair was being pulled by a nasty looking doxy, and her finger was bleeding.

“ _ Immobulus!”  _ Anne shouted as she ran towards her. The doxy released its grip on Josie and floated limply away before Anne cast it into the cage with the others.

“Thanks,” Josie muttered grudgingly.

“Are you bleeding?”

“It’s just a nick, it’s nothing.”

“The bites are poisonous, Josie,” Anne reminded. “Let’s just put some antidote on it to be sure.”

Josie gave her a suspicious look but followed her to the front. Anne poured some of the antidote out into the cap. She searched a few drawers - finding a Sneakoscope, some silver instruments, and a book that sprang open and screamed until Anne shut the drawer hastily. In the fourth she found a rag, which she dipped into the antidote and brought to Josie, who looked like the bite had started to actually sting and was glad when Anne pressed the solution to her finger.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she said quietly. 

“I hardly think that preventing you from dropping dead from doxy poisoning makes us friends,” Anne said humorously. 

“I didn’t say that,” Josie said sharply. 

“Well, it would definitely be easier,” she sighed, searching for something to bandage the finger with. She found a bit of gauze beside the bottle of antidote. 

Josie stayed silent, looking curiously at her. But as soon as Anne wrapped the bandage securely around her finger, she turned on her heel and returned to her side of the room. They didn’t exchange any more words until Professor Stacy came back a half hour later, finally sending them back up to their common rooms.

Anne couldn’t help but feel that it was at least something of a win. 

The week went on. Anne reported to Professor Stacy’s classroom in the evenings, and she and Josie were given some vaguely dangerous or otherwise extremely boring task to complete. The day after the doxys it was sorting essays; the next they were feeding grindylows. It became easier to be around Josie each day - although not enjoyable by any means. It seemed that Josie had come to regard Anne as more of a nuisance than an enemy, and it pleased Anne that she now made it out of their detentions without too many scathing comments thrown her way.

On Thursday night, Anne had just sorted out a second wave of doxys with Josie for an hour - she could’ve sworn that Josie smiled genuinely at her at one point - she headed to the library. Gilbert was insisting on stopping at the library once she finished, even though they’d only have about an hour until the nine o’ clock curfew. The date of the first task had once seemed wonderfully far off, but November was only a week away, and the twenty-seventh now seemed painfully close. 

Anne still wasn’t sure what they were even supposed to be researching or preparing for. How did Professor Stacy fault her for not spending her days in the library if she didn’t even have a clue what to prepare for?

When she entered the library, there were only a few fifth and sixth years in there, noses to the parchment, quills scratching quietly. Anne had finished most of her work during her free periods that day and before her detention, but she may have to squeeze in some practicing with Transfiguration before class the next day if she wanted to stay on top of things. She sighed, tired from her detention and sincerely wishing she could be headed to the Ravenclaw dormitory for an early night. Surely Diana would be there, lying one of the soft beds and sleeping, for  _ she  _ had no deadly Triwizard tasks to practice for…

“Anne,” someone whispered. Anne found Gilbert sitting at their usual table with several books open. He looked a bit tired, but still wore the same bright smile as she approached. 

“Wow, quite a spread,” Anne commented as she sat beside him.

“I’ve asked Madam Pince to help me pull any books which refer to the Triwizard tournament,” Gilbert responded with a grin. “She’s not exactly supposed to help, but if you ask me, she feels a bit bad for us. Or maybe she just wants a Hogwarts win.”

“Don’t we all,” Anne said tiredly.

“Josie treat you okay?” he murmured as he looked back down at his book, bumping his knee with hers under the table. 

“Fine,” Anne said tepidly. “Well, actually, I think there may be some progress on that front.”

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear.”

“Well, I’m a miracle-worker, I suppose,” Anne said, pulling  _ Magical Disasters of the Last Millenia _ towards her and opening it to its index. “So, any luck so far?”

“Not exactly,” Gilbert admitted. “Most of them make vague allusions to the tournament - nothing we don’t already know. Although” - Gilbert brandished a book entitled  _ Where to Send Your Wizard? A Guide to the European Wizarding Schools _ \- “this one talks a bit more about the tasks. At least it says that there are three of them.”

“Well, there’s not been one in at least a hundred years, so no modern book is going to have anything super useful,” Anne murmured, pushing  _ Modern Magical History _ across the table decidedly. 

She found  _ Triwizard  _ in the index of the book she had been looking at and flipped to page seventy-four. Her eyes widened slowly. “Gil…”

“What?”

“This book talks about a champion who died,” Anne said slowly. “In the first task, actually - he fought a  _ giant _ . I mean, that’s illegal, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure it is now,” Gilbert said, scooting over to read over her shoulder. “How on earth did you find a book with more than two words about the tournament within a minute of sitting down, when I’ve been here for hours?”

“Look - they compare it to the previous tournament, where two champions died against a basilisk… who in their  _ right mind  _ would set off a basilisk against a  _ student! _ ” Anne cried, so that Madam Pince shot daggers at her from across the library.

Even Gilbert was looking very concerned. “No, no, they wouldn’t do that now. Breeding basilisks is illegal now anyways, remember - we heard about that when we were in Romania.”

“How would we ever get past something like that,” Anne argued, fear rising in her voice. “They haven’t even given us warning! How do we know what we’re up against?”

“Well, there is a common thread…” 

Anne frowned in confusion, and he met her eyes slowly.

“I think we’re going to be fighting a monster.”


	7. The First Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The champions face the first task of the Triwizard tournament.

Anne woke up with her face plastered to page sixty-two of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ It was eight-thirty, according to the clock in the library, and the other students had cleared out entirely. The sun had set outside; the moon was steadily rising, and it cast a sliver of shimmering light over the table they’d been working on. 

Gilbert was asleep too, his head resting uncomfortably on his bent arm. Anne watched for a moment. She didn’t want to wake him; they’d been spending long afternoons in the library or practicing curse after curse in Professor Stacy’s classroom (when it was empty). They hardly slept anymore. The first task was in three days, and whenever Anne closed her eyes, all she saw were the various lethal beasts that they’d been studying for weeks, killing her in every way imaginable.

But he looked calm. His breathing was soft and even, and his mouth curved up ever so slightly, giving the indication that he might even be having a nice dream. Anne knew that those were hard to come by for him, especially recently, so she turned back to her textbook silently.

_The Manticore is a highly dangerous Greek beast with the head of a man, the body of a lion and the tail of a scorpion. As dangerous as the Chimaera, and as rare, the Manticore is reputed to croon softly as it devours its prey. Manticore skin repels almost all known charms and the sting causes instant death._

“We better not be fighting you,” Anne muttered softly. “You’d kill us in an instant.”

“Have a little faith,” Gilbert murmured beside her, his eyes still closed.

Anne shifted to look at him. “I was going to let you sleep.”

“What’s the point,” he said, rolling his head upwards to rest on his hands, his eyes fluttering open. His hair was sticking up in the back.

“The point is that you never rest anymore,” Anne said crossly. “Jerry says you wake him up with all your tossing and turning.”

Gilbert blinked sleepily. “So?”

“So, it worries me.”

“You don’t sleep either,” Gilbert argued. “How can we? All we do is read book after book about deadly creatures that hardly any wizard has escaped. It’s exhausting.”

“Well, what would you prefer?”

“I can think of plenty of things I’d prefer,” Gilbert muttered, his eyes piercing Anne’s with sudden intensity. He leaned forward a little, that same smirk on his face.

She didn’t move, just watched his face get closer, pupils blown…

“ _Ahem_!”

Their chairs were suddenly blasted several feet apart. Standing over them a moment later was Madam Pince, leering down suspiciously, wand in hand. “Isn’t it time you two head back to your common rooms?”

Anne flushed and Gilbert stifled a laugh. “R-right… sorry.”

Madam Pince gave a wave of her wand and their books went shooting off the table back to their original shelves. Anne and Gilbert gathered their materials and headed out hastily, only letting out brazen laughs when they were safely out of the library and back in the corridor.

“I think we deserve a break,” Anne said as they sped back towards the common rooms; they had only five minutes until curfew would begin and she didn’t want to give Filch a reason to put her in detention right before the tournament.

“Do you?”

“We’ve been working nonstop for weeks,” Anne said, casting a look at him. “On top of everything we already have with our classes… it’s too much. And we can’t prepare more than we have.”

“Maybe,” Gilbert said thoughtfully.

“Let’s just try to actually sleep the next three days, and maybe then we’ll have an actual shot at this.”

“You have a point.”

They came again to the point where their paths diverged. Gilbert looked both ways down the corridor. 

“D’you see Filch anywhere?”

“What? No.”

“Mrs. Norris?”

“No?”

“Madam Pince?”

Anne smiled. “I don’t think so.”

Gilbert reached forward to kiss her chastely, but Anne slipped a hand to the back of his head before he could withdraw. Warmth spread through her from her lips to her toes, and the heat spiked as she felt his hand move down her back. His lips parted slightly; she deepened the kiss, now only vaguely aware that they were standing in the middle of a corridor with no more than a minute left to get back to the common rooms before they’d be breaking the rules. She didn’t care. It felt so thrillingly normal to just stand here and kiss him and be teenagers for once, and not the Hogwarts Triwizard champions. 

“Anne,” Gilbert breathed as he eventually broke away, his forehead brushing hers. “I don’t want to go, but…”

“I know,” Anne said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll… yeah,” he stuttered back, and she grinned at him as she turned and headed towards the Ravenclaw tower, the heat of his gaze on her until she had turned out of sight.

“Eat something, come on.”

Anne shook her head queasily. Cole and Diana were seated on either side of her at the Ravenclaw table, staring at her with expressions of concern as they attempted to force feed her breakfast. She felt like her insides were tying themselves together.

“Diana, remember before the Potions O.W.L. when Charlie puked in the hallway?” Anne said in a strained voice, closing her eyes.

“Er - well, yes?”

“This is just like that, except maybe a thousand times worse,” Anne muttered. “So unless you want that toast to come right back up on your school robes, it’s not going to happen.”

Diana put the piece of toast down in defeat.

“Look, Anne, you shouldn’t worry - _too much_ ,” Cole added nervously as Anne shot him a scathing look. “Winifred and Roy bicker too much to make a good team, and I don’t think Stella and Fred have the same aptitude for Defense spells as you and Gilbert.”

“I don’t care about being _first_ , Cole, I care about living through this day,” she snapped back.

Charlie slid into the seat across from Anne then, his face covered inexpertly in blue and bronze paint. “Oy, Anne, how’s my favorite Triwizard champion doing?”

Anne grunted in response.

“Always a charmer, this one,” Charlie said with a cheeky grin. “Listen, you’re supposed to be on the pitch in fifteen.”

“What?!” Anne shouted. A couple of students who were still finishing breakfast looked her way, and she continued in a slightly quieter voice. “The task isn’t until noon!”

“They want you a bit early to brief you and all,” Charlie said, munching on the piece of untouched toast on Anne’s plate. Diana looked at him scornfully. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Shirley, that’s just what Dumbledore told me to tell you - just passed him in the hall, he’s wearing the most ridiculous robes…”

But Anne was not listening to Charlie’s comments on Dumbledore’s fashion sense. She stood shakily, met Gilbert’s eye across the room, and they headed out wordlessly. She reached her hand out and he took it, but they didn’t speak as they walked down to the Quidditch pitch. 

All of their practice was flashing through Anne’s head with every rapid beat of her heart. Would the beast even be one of the many they studied? Would it even _be_ a beast? Anne’s heart beated faster still at this prospect, for then they would be truly doomed, because they were not equipped for anything else. 

When they made it down to the pitch, it was transformed. Huge walls were erected around it, at least thirty feet tall, so that they couldn’t see what was inside. Anne’s stomach twisted at this. A large emerald green tent stood outside the entrance, and Dumbledore was speaking to a tall wizard outside it as they approached. Anne dropped Gilbert’s hand suddenly.

“Anne, Gilbert, good to see you both,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “This is Quentin Briarwood, high-ranking Ministry official and an old colleague of mine, he’ll be one of the additional two judges…”

Briarwood extended a wiry hand, and Gilbert and Anne each shook it. He was smiling widely so that his thin skin appeared stretched, and his eyes were a piercing blue that made Anne shift uncomfortably when he looked upon her. “Strong pair of students, by the looks of them, Albus! Although we’ll see what they can do once they’re in there - you never know until you’re really in it of course - best of luck to you both!”

“Thanks, sir,” Gilbert said rather miserably as they entered the tent. 

Someone shoved scarlet and navy robes into their hands, each of them etched on the back with “Shirley” and “Blythe,” the Hogwarts insignia underneath their names. The other four champions were inside, looking equally unsettled; Roy and Winifred were already fair, but they were now so pale that they appeared ghostly. Stella was pacing in front of Fred, reciting something under her breath, and he was staring blankly at his shoes.

They sat on one of the benches at the side of the tent, still hardly able to look each other in the eyes. Anne could hear the crowds outside, heading happily towards the stands, excited to watch the task that they’d been chatting about for months… she wished so much that she could join them, just a face in the crowd watching… 

“Welcome!” said a stout man with a round face as he strode into the tent, causing Stella to jump in alarm. “Good to see all your smiling faces, ready to compete!”

Anne didn’t need to look around to know that none of the six champions were smiling.

“You’ll be wondering who I am, I expect,” he said cheerfully, and Anne glared up at him. “Atticus Forbes, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I, and several of my colleagues, have been leading the effort to reinstate this tournament and rework our tasks - rather exciting stuff!”

He paused, as if expecting applause. The awkward silence that ensued was interrupted as Dumbledore and Briarwood swept into the tent, followed by Maxime and Karkaroff. They collected in a small group, speaking quietly. Forbes paid them no attention.

“Ah good, good,” Forbes gave a little hop. “Now that we’re all here, let’s discuss the task, shall we?”

Anne leaned forward expectantly. Now she’d be able to hear what it was they had to fight, finally… if she and Gilbert went last, maybe they could prepare for whatever it was… 

“...now, in the interest of a level playing field, we’re going to keep you in the dark until you’re out there!” Atticus Forbes continued with a wink, and Anne deflated again. “But I assure you, it will be the same task for everyone, and equally dangerous, so not to worry!”

Anne met Stella’s eye to exchange a look of annoyance over Forbes’ jolly disposition, which only made her feel slightly better. 

“Now, the task here is that each pair will have to get past something in order to retrieve an artifact of great value,” Forbes said, lowering his voice as if telling a secret. “There will be a golden cup out there - your task is to retrieve it - and you and your partner need to each have a hand on it, of course. Questions?”

But Atticus Forbes did not wait for questions before smiling again and saying, “Wonderful! Now, let’s draw for order…”

Fred picked first, and retrieved a small slip of paper with the number ‘2’ on it in bold lettering. Winifred selected a number ‘1’ from the bag, and Roy looked at her irately as if she could have prevented this. 

“Don’t need to wonder what yours will be then, I suppose!” Forbes said, humming as Gilbert fished a ‘3’ out of the bag. “Well, in that case, we’ll begin - Beauxbatons champions, follow me…”

Anne and Gilbert split up from Fred and Stella instinctively, seating themselves in the corner. 

“So, what do you think?” she said then in a low voice.

“Well, I don’t like the way that Gardner kid was looking at you.”

“I meant about the task,” Anne said scornfully. “Are you seriously thinking about that right now?”

“I’m always thinking about you,” Gilbert said dramatically, and Anne pushed him playfully. The briefly happy moment melted quickly into a nervous silence as they were reminded of their situation. 

“Just remember all the preparation we did. We know a spell for almost all of the creatures we read about - we can do this.”

“I know.”

It was about twenty minutes that they sat there, tapping their feet anxiously. It was only the four champions left in the tent, which had been magically sealed to keep out the sounds of the tournament outside, leaving them in a painful silence. Finally, Dumbledore entered to retrieve the Durmstrang champions, and Anne’s insides twisted uncomfortably. She tried to recall the images of the beasts they’d read about, their weaknesses, but the words swam on the page whenever she tried to picture the pages of the textbooks.

Twenty-five minutes later, Dumbledore entered again for them. Anne and Gilbert stood, following Dumbledore out of the tent and into a small passageway built into one of the tall walls surrounding the pitch. 

A door slid open, and the deafening shouts of the crowd suddenly broke through. Dumbledore rested a hand on each of their shoulders and whispered, “Good luck.”

Then, taking each other’s hands, they stepped forward, the door sealing decisively behind them. 

Anne took in her surroundings. The Quidditch pitch was unrecognizable; instead, it seemed to be an enormous rocky pit, with mountain-like walls thirty feet high on all sides. Above the walls were the stands, full of screaming, cheering, and heckling students from all three schools. Anne knew she wouldn’t be able to pick out her friends in the blur of the crowd above. She squinted - it looked like they were all wearing something on their heads, but they were too far away for her to make it out. 

She reached her hand immediately into her pocket for her wand, and heard Gilbert beside her doing the same. She hadn’t seen any beast yet, but the stadium was full of hills and rock formations that blocked a clear view across the entire pitch. 

Anne glanced sideways at Gilbert, and he gave a small nod. They split up, Anne skirting across the left side of the pitch, Gilbert taking the right. There were people shouting from the crowd above, but it all seemed very distant… all Anne could hear was the sound of rocks shifting under her feet as she walked.

She heard it before she saw it. An earsplitting screech rang out across the pitch, and Anne sunk to her knees immediately, clapping her hands over her ears, which were ringing with pain. She tried to look up to find Gilbert, but he was out of sight - instead, she saw an enormous creature taking to the sky, beating its wings forcefully. Around its neck was a thick metal collar, and a huge chain connected it to the ground. 

It was a winged beast, akin to a hippogriff, but at least three times the size. Its head appeared to be that of a massive, snowy white eagle, with beady yellow eyes the size of dinner plates and scaly front legs that bore razor-sharp talons. Its hindquarters were like a huge lion, rather than a horse (as hippogriffs had, as Anne remembered from Care of Magical Creatures). She racked her brain, the cry of the creature still ringing in her ears… Hagrid had mentioned these beasts as cousins of hippogriffs… 

_A griffin_ , she remembered with great difficulty, as the noise had still not ceased and it was causing Anne’s brain to scramble. She had not, in fact, studied griffins, but she realized now that it was earmuffs that the entire crowd was wearing. At the very least, though, they were fighting a beast, and _that_ much she had prepared for. 

She tried to get to her feet as the griffin closed its beak momentarily, but she had no sooner seized her wand then the sound rang out again. 

Anne raised her wand with enormous difficulty, aiming it towards the creature, and yelled, “ _Silencio!_ ”

The griffin closed its beak, whipping around its head to find the source of the spell. Anne held her breath, hoping the spell had worked - she was good with Charms, but she’d never cast the silencing spell on such a large target… 

The griffin threw its head back and cried out once more, giving no indication that the Silencing Charm had had any effect, and Anne collapsed to the ground again. She managed to scoot herself under a small rocky overhang, attempting to remain out of the beast’s sight.

 _Think, think, think._ Her heart was pounding as she stared into the gravelly ground in front of her. She managed to look up again - the griffin was circling, narrowing its yellow eyes, searching for them. 

Finally its cry stopped, and the rushing pain in Anne’s ears ceased. Her ears buzzed now from the sound, but she looked up to see Gilbert streaking toward her - he had seized the moment of silence for action. 

He pointed his wand out towards her - “ _MUFFLIATO!”_ he shouted.

The sound around her dissipated. She looked up and saw the griffin open its beak again to cry, but no sound came out. Anne frowned, but when she looked down again, she saw Gilbert had fallen to his knees, his eyes shut tightly, hands clamped over his ears. 

_Of course, Gilbert, you stupid genius!_

“ _Muffliato!_ ” Anne cried with her wand pointed at Gilbert, though she could not hear her own incantation. He pushed himself up, and they exchanged a glance of nervous realization. They were immune to the cries of the griffin - but now they also couldn’t hear anything else. 

They stood now, five feet apart. Anne met Gilbert’s eyes and pointed to herself, then mouthed, “CUP.”

He nodded in response, and remained where he was, his wand pointed to the griffin as Anne scrambled over one of the rocky hills. Now she was on higher ground, she had a better view of the arena. Anne kept a watchful eye on the griffin - she was much more visible now. Without her hearing, if she didn’t see it first, it would be on her before she could even react… and Anne was hard-pressed to imagine a scenario where she’d survive if she got up close to that thing.

Anne scanned the floor for a flash of gold, and felt oddly reminded of Quidditch - looking down over the pitch, trying to locate the shiny golden Snitch… how different was this really from Seeking?

 _Well now there’s an enormous bird-lion trying to kill me and my boyfriend_ , a voice in her head responded miserably. 

But then she saw it - right where the chain of the griffin was drilled to the ground, a large pile of rocks concealed a small, shiny cup. Anne grinned, a rush of relief over her - she just had to make it there and then back to Gilbert. She turned to gesture to him, but her mouth opened in horror as she saw the griffin swooping down in his direction.

Gilbert shouted something, and a flash of red light emitted from his wand and hit the griffin in its chest. Anne assumed it was a Stunning spell - but it only stopped the beast for a second, it was swooping down again…

“ _CONFRINGO!”_ Anne shouted, wand pointed at the griffin. Fiery light shot out of her wand at it, catching one of its wings on fire slightly - it turned away from Gilbert, beating the fire out of its wing wildly.

Anne took the opportunity to run for the cup, hoping that Gilbert could stave it off by himself in the meantime. The rocky hill was steep; she picked her way down carefully so as not to trip, casting nervous glances over her shoulder. She could distantly hear the cries of the griffin now through the silence in her ears, but just barely… 

“ _Bombarda!”_ she pointed her wand at the pile of rocks and they blasted away from the cup. It was glowing gold in the midday light, and she seized the handle of it excitedly - they were so close - all she had to do was make it back to Gilbert.

But as soon as she turned around it was upon her, rearing on its hind legs. She stumbled back, tripping over the remains of the rock pile, scooting away as much as she could. The sharp rocky floor tore at her robes, but the griffin was coming down now, and Anne could see Gilbert but he was too far - one of its massive talons tore down her shoulder and knocked her across the ground.

Anne rolled away, clinging to the cup. She didn’t dare to look down at her shoulder, but she could feel it - the hot, sticky blood was pouring down her, and if she wasn’t so overwhelmed with adrenaline she probably would have been paralyzed with pain.

She saw Gilbert standing his ground in front of it. He shouted something - the griffin’s eyes swelled shut - a Conjunctivitis curse. _That’s brilliant_ , she thought proudly. It was crying out terribly, Anne could see through her blurred vision, but they still couldn’t hear anything but a muted roar. The people in the stands were wincing, several of them pressing their hands to their earmuffs.

Gilbert’s face was covered in dirt and there was a long cut down his cheek, but he looked otherwise okay as he stumbled towards her. The griffin was in the air, whipping its head around wildly, blinded temporarily. Anne reached the hand with the cup out towards him - all he had to do was get a hand on it… 

He reached his fingers out and as soon as they touched the cool dark metal, Anne could see the crowd jumping to their feet; the griffin was suddenly being ushered away through a large passageway by a team of wizards carrying noise making devices that seemed to scare it into submission. They were _safe_ , they were _alive_ …

“ _Finite_ ,” she and Gilbert said in unison, pointing their wands at each other, and the silence in their ears vanished with a loud _POP!_ It was deafening at first, between the screams of the crowd and the muted cry of the griffin as it vanished from sight. Loud, celebratory music filled the pitch. Then, as she took several deep breaths, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder.

She looked down and immediately looked back up again in alarm. Gilbert was at her side now, his eyes wide and worried. The gash was deep, running from her collarbone to her ribs, and her eyes were suddenly very difficult to keep open. Gilbert was speaking to her with panic - the crowd was still shouting, more wizards were running over to them. Anne could make out his words, he was pleading for her not to, but she let her eyes slip closed until it all faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this lived up to some of your hopes for the first task... I want them to be different, but still similarly themed to the original tasks. I also know that I stretched some of the canon for the sake of it, but I hope you still liked it anyways. Let me know your thoughts!


	8. The Other Boy

Anne came to in the champions’ tent, on some sort of makeshift stretcher. The pain was duller now, although when she pushed herself into a sitting position, it ached with a new ardor. The whole area was bandaged; her robes had been changed into identical fresh ones. Gilbert was sitting beside her. The cut on his face wasn’t bleeding anymore.

“How long has it been?” she asked first, blinking up at him.

His head turned to her immediately, softening with relief that she was up, and more or less okay. “Only about a half hour.”

“What’s going on? What happened?”

“They’re releasing the scores right now… we finished in eighteen minutes.”

“That’s the fastest, isn’t it?” Anne said hopefully.

“Yeah, it is,” he said with a weak smile. “But they’re still arguing - Karkaroff and Forbes want to take off points because we sustained the most injuries.”

Anne looked around. Sure enough, they were the only pair with one of their champions on a stretcher. Roy and Winifred seemed to be a bit beat up - the latter sporting a nasty black eye that Madam Pomfrey was tending to - but Stella and Fred looked mostly okay. 

“Fair enough,” she grumbled irritably. “But I’ll give Forbes a piece of my mind if he puts us last.”

“That’s my girl.”

A rustling interrupted them at the edge of the tent; Dumbledore and the rest of the panel of judges emerged - Karkaroff was scowling, but Forbes looked quite cheerful as always. 

“The scores have just been announced to the crowd,” Dumbledore began with a smile. “Although given the state of our champions, we thought we would allow you to rest here. Therefore, I’ll let you know the standings as of now.”

Stella gave Fred a confident nudge. 

“In first place - Stella Maynard and Fred Wright for Durmstrang.”

As they clapped politely - which seemed a bit strange, with only the four other champions and five judges in the tent - Anne leaned over to Gilbert. 

“If Durmstrang won, then why’s Karkaroff look like he’s stepped in dragon dung?”

“In second place, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe for Hogwarts.”

“There’s your answer,” Gilbert whispered back, grinning. “I reckon he thought we deserved last place for your injury.”

“And in third place, Winifred Rose and Roy Gardner for Beauxbatons,” Dumbledore finished, politely clapping for the Beauxbatons pair, who exchanged annoyed glances. 

Atticus Forbes waddled forward as if waiting for the moment where he could assume the spotlight again - Dumbledore stepped back graciously, watching him through his half-moon spectacles.

“Now now, the next task is scheduled for the twenty-second of February!” he chortled. “Those cups contain a clue of what you may encounter - if you can figure them out of course!” 

Anne looked suddenly to Gilbert and realized that he had the small golden cup still in his lap. A clue… at least they’d have some indication of what the second task might be. It seemed somewhat more manageable, at least.

“Now, off you go - enjoy the glory of completing your first task - you’ve all done quite well!”

The glory of the first task had worn off by the time Anne shouldered her way into the common room a few days later, finally reaching the end of a particularly long day between Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. She would at least be getting off her bandages soon - for that she was grateful, because they constrained her ability to take notes quickly in class.

The common room was strangely quiet as she walked in, even for Ravenclaw, and Anne realized quickly that everyone’s noses were in various copies of The Daily Prophet, and when someone finished one, they would pass it to the next person with a smirk. Anne felt eyes on her as she made her way in, people glimpsing between the paper and her as if they were assessing her somehow. She found Diana and Cole, who were peering at it as well with their faces screwed up in expressions of distaste, but as soon as she approached, Diana stuffed it into her bag.

“What is it with everyone today?” Anne grumbled as she dropped into the seat across from them. “And don’t think I didn’t see that, Diana. Hand it over.”

“Well - Anne, I don’t think it’s even worth bothering with,” Diana said lamely. Cole elbowed her - “It’s stupid, really!”

“ _Accio_ ,” Anne muttered, and the paper whizzed out of Diana’s bag and into her hand, where she smoothed it out and read.

**_A Brief Profile of Your Triwizard Champions_ **

**_Rita Skeeter_ **

**_Anne Shirley-Cuthbert_ **

_Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, 16, represents Ravenclaw House as the female champion for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, paired with Gilbert Blythe (see profile below). The Hogwarts champions have secured second place thus far in the tournament, after a nail-biting performance in the first task. _

_While her bravery in the face of danger is admirable, the more startling reality about Anne is her bravery on the battlefield of love. As it seems, Miss Shirley has a particular taste for her fellow champions. Though students at Hogwarts know her to be romantically linked to none other than her partner Gilbert Blythe, she seemed irritable to the subject and reluctant to mention anything to do with him. Meanwhile, multiple insider sources have suggested that romance may be brewing between Shirley and Beauxbatons champion Roy Gardner, who admitted to harboring feelings for her._

_“I’ve seen the way they look at each other,” tells Josie Pye, a classmate of Anne’s. “If I was Gilbert, I would certainly not be happy with it.”_

_“I can’t pretend I haven’t noticed it,” adds Winifred Rose, Gardner’s fellow Beauxbatons champion, in her interview when pressed on the matter._

_Blythe declined to comment on the subject, although it seems evident that he is in a great deal of stress after the absence of his father during his untimely trip to Azkaban._

_more on page 13_

“It’s garbage!” Diana said nervously. “E-everyone knows that, Anne, don’t let it work you up. She took everything out of context, just wanted to make up some story for reads… plus Josie’s always stirring the pot…” 

Anne opened and closed her mouth several times. Never mind Josie, although she thought she was making progress there. She shouldn’t have even bothered - of course Josie would have a hand in embarrassing her to everyone. Anne wanted to punch something - Roy Gardner, for starters - but a more startling thought came to mind first.

“Were these delivered this morning?” She asked shakily.

“Er, yeah,” Cole said. “Not many people get the Daily Prophet, but… I suppose it’s been trading hands all day… so, er… a lot of people have read it by now.”

“You don’t…” Anne said slowly, paling slightly. “You don’t suppose Gilbert believes this, right?”

Diana and Cole exchanged glances.

“He shouldn’t,” Diana said bravely. “I mean, it’s obviously idiotic, but you know Gilbert… he can be a bit jealous, and she’s really twisted your words…”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Cole finished for her with an unconvincing attempt at conviction.

Anne slumped into the chair, now much more painfully aware of all the glances that the other Ravenclaws were throwing in her direction. She felt a more passionate hatred for Rita Skeeter than she already had. As if she wasn’t dealing with enough already - now she’s potentially turned Anne’s own boyfriend - her partner in the tournament - against her?

“Exploding Snap, Anne?” Cole suggested hopefully.

“I think I’ll go try to find him,” Anne answered weakly, getting to her feet. 

Gilbert was not in the corridors, nor in the courtyard. Anne stopped by the library, but was disappointed to find only gawking students, brandishing their copies of the Prophet and giggling when they thought she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t until she caught Jerry outside of Gryffindor common room that she got an answer.

“Jerry!” she said, glad to have found a familiar Gryffindor to ask. “Is Gilbert in there?”

He gave her a funny look. “Well, yeah.”

“Can you ask him to meet me in the courtyard?”

Jerry shifted his weight between his feet, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Anne, I don’t know if he wants to talk right now.”

“You’re kidding,” Anne said in a low voice. She hadn’t anticipated this outcome. “Rita Skeeter publishes nothing but lies! If anyone should know that it’s him!”

Anne thought something desperate might have flashed in her eyes, because Jerry laid a reassuring hand on her arm.

“I’ll pass along the message. I’m sure he’ll come in a bit,” Jerry said with a rather strained smile.

Anne turned and headed to the courtyard to wait. Each step she took, she got a bit angrier… how could only _Diana and Cole_ believe her? After everything she wrote about Gilbert’s father, how could he not just _know_ that Skeeter was winding him up?

By the time she made it to a vacant corner of the courtyard to sit down, she was thoroughly mad, but pulled out a book to read as she waited, hoping to calm herself down before they spoke. She tried to focus on it, but the words blurred on the page, and all she could think of was Gilbert reading the article, picturing her with Roy, somehow believing any of it…

Someone sat down beside her. It was him. At first she flushed with relief, but then frowned, noticing the considerable distance he left between them. He was staring ahead, not at her, and Anne felt that anger twist in her stomach again.

“So you’ve read it,” Anne said coldly, already knowing his answer.

Gilbert just gave a little raise of his eyebrows.

“Hey, look at me,” she prodded, and he reluctantly turned to meet her gaze, eyes steely. “What is up with you?”

“What, did you expect me to be happy?” he muttered bitterly. 

“I expected you to have an ounce of sense,” Anne retorted crossly. “Rita Skeeter is a liar. I thought you wouldn’t need a reminder of that.”

“I know she is!” he said gruffly. “But I still have eyes, and I can see what that kid is up to.”

“So now you’re holding me accountable for other people’s actions!”

“Of course not,” he glared back. “But it’s not exactly like you’ve shut it down, or anything.”

Anne let out a gasp that was a mixture of indignation and disbelief. Their voices were raising, and some people were starting to stare. “What was I supposed to do! I thought the message was pretty clear, given the fact that you’re my _boyfriend_ and he’s not!”

“I didn’t mean that, I just…” 

Gilbert looked frustrated, as if his head and his heart were in conflict. Anne’s eyes drifted down to his knuckles, which were scraped and bloodied, and her jaw dropped.

“You _fought_ him?”

Gilbert blinked, looking abashed for a moment. “Barely.”

“Are you an _idiot?_ ” Anne shouted, jumping to her feet, concern and fury pulsing through her. “What if you were hurt? What if you hurt him! How much trouble have you gotten yourself in now over nothing, when we ought to be focusing on the tournament?”

Gilbert stuffed his hands in his pockets, shielding the injury from view. “I just lost my temper - he provoked it - Snape’s giving me plenty of detentions!”

“Well, fine then!” Anne expected tears, but only felt a hollowness growing inside her. “I’m glad you’re so _satisfied,_ you’ve got it sorted!”

“Anne, I just… ”

Gilbert trailed off, staring after her. She had already turned on her heel and left, the eyes of several other students who had been watching the altercation trailing her as she stormed past. 

“You’re going to have to forgive him,” Diana urged. “You should be working on the clue.”

“I don’t care about the tasks anymore,” Anne mumbled. She was lying facedown on her bed. 

“Yes, you do.”

Anne bolted upright. “You know what, Diana? I do!”

Diana gave a confused look. “You - yeah?”

“I don’t need Gilbert’s help, or anyone else’s,” she continued with a sudden passion. “After all, I bailed him out more than once during the griffin task.”

“That’s true,” Diana agreed hesitantly as Anne stood and began pacing pensively around the dormitory. 

“And I discovered about the beasts anyway,” Anne said. “And I’m the Ravenclaw - I’m clever enough to solve this clue myself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Diana said carefully, as Anne’s pacing had turned into a sort of purposeful march. “But Gilbert has the cup.”

Anne stopped. “Right, that’s true… “

They paused their conversation as Ka’kwet came in.

“Good morning, Anne, Diana,” she said brightly. “Have you eaten breakfast? I didn’t see you in the Great Hall.”

“Not yet,” Diana said with an ill-concealed edge of grumpiness. 

“You’re coming on the Hogsmeade trip, aren’t you?” Ka’kwet continued cheerfully. “Charlie and Cole are planning to ambush Billy and Josie’s date with some Zonko’s items that just came in stock - you know them.”

She shrugged and offered a good-natured smile, which Diana returned.

“We’ll definitely be there,” Anne decided. “I’ll just ask Gilbert for the cup, Diana - it only makes sense for me to hold onto it for now - and we can meet up with the others.”

“Well - okay,” Diana said. “Then let’s get to the Great Hall.”

Breakfast had almost finished by the time they made it there. Anne hoped that she would avoid running into Gilbert prematurely by waiting until the end of breakfast, and luckily the plan had proved effective, because only Minnie May and her friends and a group of seventh years occupied the Gryffindor table when they arrived. Anne was also relieved to see that the end of the table where the Beauxbatons students usually ate was vacant. She had been avoiding Roy at all costs - he was the only person that she wanted to see less than Gilbert right now.

Anne and Diana ate quickly and hurried out to the front of the castle, where a small crowd was accumulating to head out to Hogsmeade. Filch was carrying that same silver instrument from last year to check over the permission forms, leering suspiciously at some third years.

“The man has put me out of business,” Charlie was lamenting to Cole as Anne and Diana made their way over to them. “Forging those signatures for little third years with helicopter parents used to be a gold mine. I got five galleons apiece for ‘em back in the day!”

He sighed dreamily, as if remembering the feeling of a pocketful of gold.

“That damn thing is annoying,” Cole said in agreement as Filch’s device started beeping radically at a wide-eyed third year, and he forced her out of the line. 

“Cheer up, Charlie, there’s plenty of other black market items to sell,” Anne said with a nudge.

“Where have you two been?” Cole asked, turning around.

“Anne’s got a plan now for the tournament,” Diana said from behind Anne, who got the feeling that she had given them a look. 

“Here’s an idea for you,” Charlie said irritably. “Make up with Mr. Perfect so we can have a shot at winning this thing.”

Anne glared at him as they made it past Filch and headed down to Hogsmeade. “Absolutely not. If he wants to move on then he can-”

“ _-apologize to me_ ,” Cole and Diana finished for her in unison. Anne ignored them. 

There was a thin layer of frost over the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade when they arrived. Winter was approaching soon, and Anne hadn’t considered that they’d soon be leaving for break. It seemed appealing, now more than ever, to return to Green Gables where she could have some semblance of normalcy again.

Students began splitting off in all directions; Anne and Diana joined Cole and Charlie as they made their way into Zonko’s joke shop. 

“So what’s the intel?” Diana asked, dodging a fourth-year who was brandishing a trick wand that turned into a live rat. 

“Billy and Josie are at Madam Puddifoot’s,” Charlie said sneakily, sweeping an arm over a shelf of Dungbombs and shoving half of them into his plastic bag. “We thought we’d play a little joke on them, you know - after Josie went blabbing to Rita Skeeter… to defend Anne’s honor and all.”

“While I appreciate the gesture, guys, I ought to just confront her,” Anne said, frowning.

“She’s nasty!” Cole argued as he looked at some Nose-Biting Teacups. “You shouldn’t let her walk all over you!”

“Keep those,” Anne pressed. “I mean it - it’s a waste of energy.”

Cole and Charlie exchanged disgruntled looks but gave her a nod of reluctant concurrence.

Anne and Diana ducked out as the boys continued looking around; they stopped by Honeyduke’s next, but didn’t buy anything. When they wandered to the tea shop, they did see Billy and Josie inside, but Anne just grimaced and stalked past. It was probably better to just stay out of Josie’s way, and pray she had the decency to do the same.

“So,” Anne said, as they headed into the Three Broomsticks. “I think it’s finally time.”

“Time for what?” Diana asked quizzically as they slid into a booth. Anne gave a little wave to Madam Rosmerta, who nodded back to indicate she would come over soon. 

“For you to tell me what happened with Jerry.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Must I?”

“You’ve been brooding about it for too long. So yes, you must.”

“Fine. We… corresponded over the summer,” Diana began.

Anne grinned deviously. “ _Corresponded_ , you say?”

Diana gave her a pointed look. “My mother and father disapproved. They wouldn’t even let me send Adelia out - I could barely even get her enough to send you letters.”

“What?” Anne said in confusion. “Why not?”

“All their nonsense about who’s suitable for marriage,” Diana said, resting her head sullenly on her hand. “He’s… well, he’s muggle-born. And as much as my parents deny having a prejudice… they don’t want me involved with someone who isn’t from an _‘esteemed wizarding family._ ’”

“Well, that’s awful,” Anne said sincerely. “They can hardly stop you from talking while you’re here, though, right?”

“Clearly you don’t know my mother well enough,” Diana said glumly, averting her eyes. 

“Here you are,” Madam Rosmerta said, arriving with two tankards of butterbeer. “How’s everything coming along, Anne? Holding up okay?”

“Great,” Anne said, forcing a smile as she reached for the butterbeer. Madam Rosmerta gave a sort of pitiful smile in return and left them.

“Come on, let’s talk about something not depressing,” Anne said brightly, giving Diana a cheerful prod and wishing she hadn’t brought Jerry up. 

“I don’t think you’ll be able to avoid that,” Diana said, nodding her head towards the door. Anne followed her gaze to see Gilbert and Jerry entering, their cheeks red from the cold. They made their way over to a booth with a few other Gryffindors and slid in, chatting idly. Anne snapped her head back around so fast that she thought she cricked it. Diana raised her eyebrows.

“You did say you would talk to him,” she said, mildly amused.

“He seems… busy,” Anne deflected.

“Come on, you battled a griffin. This is nothing.”

Diana gave her a small kick under the table and Anne stood up reluctantly, thinking that she’d prefer to take on the griffin right about now. She saw his eyes flicker over to her for a moment and knew that she couldn’t sit down now without looking like an idiot.

Summoning up as much confidence as she could, Anne marched towards the table of Gryffindors, whose lively conversation died into an awkward silence as she approached. Anne felt her cheeks getting a bit hot but swallowed the lump in her throat. Gilbert looked determined not to look at her, examining the table very fixedly until she cleared her throat.

“Can I have a word?”“I guess,” he said nonchalantly, and Anne scowled. Jerry gave her a sort of awkward look of sympathy.

They walked over to a small table with just two chairs in the corner of the pub. Anne sat first, and Gilbert looked over his shoulder as if considering bolting before taking the chair in front of her.

Anne waited for a moment. She almost expected him to apologize - after all, she’d had the decency to be the one to speak to him first, after several days of silence between them. But he just looked back at her coolly.

“Right,” Anne said in an unfriendly tone. “I think I should hold onto the clue for now.”

“Why?”

She paused and frowned. “So I can figure out what it is, of course.”

“Well why should you be the one to figure it out? I’m perfectly capable of doing it,” he said simply.

“Well, if you’re so clever, what’s the clue, then? Have you worked it all out?”

His brow furrowed. “Well… not yet.”

“Okay then,” Anne continued brusquely. “I’ll have a go at it.”

“Maybe if you quit being angry with me, we could just do it _together_.”

“At least I’m angry for a good reason!” Anne responded furiously. “Maybe it’s because I haven’t been letting it out with my fists!”

Gilbert looked away, his expression a mixture of annoyance and shame. 

“Anne, I’ve said I’m sorry,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Can you drop the attitude now?”

“You know what, you keep the cup,” Anne decided, getting to her feet, not quite ready to forgive him yet.

She strode out of the Three Broomsticks with Diana hurrying after her, no closer to solving the clue or reconciling with Gilbert than she had been that morning. 


	9. The High Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert's fight continues; Dumbledore makes an announcement.

The common room was quiet, which Anne preferred. The winter holidays were approaching at a painfully slow pace, and without passing her time with Gilbert, the days seemed infinitely longer. She had forgotten what else there was to look forward to. Her classes were more interesting, but more difficult; Cole spent most of his time with Eliot now; even Diana had been woefully missing from the common room during many of their free periods, though Anne hadn’t had the will to even question it.

A week after her row with Gilbert at Hogsmeade, she had finally been forced to stumble across Roy - though she tried to weave her way through the most difficult to intercept paths at Hogwarts, she couldn’t hide forever. He gave her a sort of puppyish look, and she couldn't find it in her heart to ignore him.

“Anne,” he had said breathily, his eyebrows raised slightly. “I just wanted to - you know, apologize… I didn’t mean for any of that Skeeter stuff to go so far, I barely even mentioned it - she blew it up ridiculously - I didn’t mean to mess it up with you and Blythe.”

Taken aback by the apology - Anne had expected a cruder comment - she just nodded stupidly and said, “I - it’s okay.”

The area around Roy’s eye was still sort of bruised. Anne wondered distantly if the apology had resulted from his genuine remorse or his fight with Gilbert. The sight of it still made her angry, which she was glad for, because she had started to feel her anger ebbing away recently.

Roy shuffled away, and Anne stared at the back of his dark haired head until he disappeared into another corridor. Still a bit shaken, she started heading out to Herbology. As she passed the vegetable patch, she thought happily of Matthew and his garden and Marilla’s cooking. How strange it was to long for the Muggle world, where Anne had always felt so out of place. Maybe it was that now she felt like an outsider even among wizards, and at least she hadn’t been competing in life-threatening tasks at Green Gables. Charlie would argue that anyone else would kill for her celebrity status and the glory of being a champion, but Anne was starting to find it much worse now that the whispers that followed her included comments like, “I heard Gilbert’s broken up with her.”

He would reconcile with her if she wanted to, though. Anne knew that.

She swung open the door to the greenhouse, where most of their class were still scrambling into their seats. Several pots of a leafy green plant were placed at the center of each cluster of students; they were covered with lids. Anne hurried to the vacant seat at a table with Cole, Diana, and Eliot. 

These plants seemed docile enough, Anne thought, remembering their last class which involved a fire-breathing strain of Venus flytrap. Professor Sprout emerged from under the table with large pruning scissors and a bin of clothespins. She had one pinching her nose already, and her patched witch’s hat was teetering precariously atop her head.

“Pass them around,” she said, shoving the bin towards Moody Spurgeon, and each student retrieved a clothespin and some of the root from the bin. “You’ll want to be breathing through your mouths, everybody! The scent of these plants is especially pungent - some serious side effects to them, of course. It’s less potent when breathed through the nose, but still effective, so chew some of that root please!”

“ _ Of course _ ,” Diana said with a scowl as she pinched a clothespin on her nose. She continued, her voice now nasally, “Can’t we ever work with plants that won’t bite or maim or incapacitate?”

“I doubt we’ll get anything so harmless again, regrettably,” Eliot said with a lighthearted smile. “Sprout gets quite into the dangerous stuff at N.E.W.T. level. But more interesting that way, isn’t it?”

Cole gave him a nod that Anne knew was entirely forced, and she felt her mood lighten a bit. They all picked up a bit of root and chewed it - the sourness made their noses scrunch distastefully.

“At least they’re not really doing much, are they?” said Anne, prodding at the plant sitting between them. It wasn’t moving wildly like the last few herbs they’d studied, though its wide, flat leaves curled slightly when she knocked at the container.

They were silenced as Professor Sprout stood on her little stool again and called for their attention. “We’re working with Salvia divinorum today - is anyone familiar?”

Her eyes scanned the room, falling on Anne, who frowned in concentration. She usually knew these things; she’d always preferred to read ahead in her textbooks, but she’d been distracted lately. Anne stared down at the table. Sprout looked slightly disappointed, but straightened up and continued.

“Well, it is a rare plant, I didn’t expect any of you to know it off the top of your heads,” she said brightly, her voice still funny from the clothespin. “We’ll be pruning them today - they’re a quite useful ingredient in many advanced potions, but one must be very careful when handling them, as they can have some nasty side effects.”

“There’s always a nasty side effect these days,” Ruby mumbled from the table beside theirs, and a few of them giggled. 

“What sorts of side effects?” asked Jane Andrews concernedly from the opposite side of the room. 

“They release a sort of hallucinogenic toxin,” Sprout said, holding up a bin and looking fondly at the plant. “They’ll make you see all sorts of wild things, quite scary, if you experience it. Known as _seer’s sage_ to some… silly wizards sometimes consider it to give them visions of the future, but wiser wizards understand them to be spurious.”

The whole class exchanged looks of alarm and intrigue. 

“What do you wanna bet that Trelawney’s addicted to this stuff,” Cole muttered under his breath.

“They’re quite rare though,” Sprout added hastily, straightening her hat. “Clothespins on - has everyone chewed their roots? Good! Lids off on my count - one, two, _three!”_

Everyone pulled off their lids simultaneously; several students flinching or recoiling as if expecting to be burned or attacked. But the plant just sat there, looking admittedly like a normal houseplant. 

Suddenly, though, a sort of oozing grey gas came wafting out in curling tendrils from the surface of the leaves. It was barely visible, but slowly the room filled with a thickening fog - Anne had to remind herself to breathe through her mouth, which she did with hesitance. 

“Well come on now, it’s no harm unless inhaled through the nose!” Sprout said. “Get pruning, you lot, snip any of the dead bits and if you see any leaves larger than a dinner plate, cut ‘em off too - they can be especially potent…”

Anne and the others set to pruning the large plant, squinting to see through the fog. It seemed harmless enough, so they continued with a new confidence.

“So, Anne, how’s second task preparation going?” Eliot asked politely - Cole stomped on his foot too late - but Anne just gave him a tight smile.

“Well, you know, it’s sort of…”

“Abysmal,” Diana finished for her with a pointed look. “Anne and Gilbert had a row and now they’re not speaking.”

“Is that so?” Eliot said curiously, and Anne shrunk into her seat slightly. She wondered if he was pretending not to know this, because it had spread quite quickly through the school. “You always seemed to get along so well.”

“Didn’t they?” Diana replied dramatically. “You’d think they would put this silliness behind them, given that they have an extraordinarily difficult task to overcome in just a few short months….”

“Diana, won’t you cut it out!” Anne cut her off, snipping rather viciously at one of the plant’s oversized leaves. It let out an indignant puff of vapor. 

“Well, we do all wish you’d just come off it,” Cole added, his eyes fixed on the salvia. “You’re both so much more miserable for it.”

“I’m not miserable!” Anne protested. 

“Tell that to your face,” Diana rolled her eyes. Anne shot her a look of annoyance.

“Just take the high road, Anne,” Eliot said wisely, snipping a dead twig off the base of the plant. “It’s worth it, I promise.”

Anne sighed for a moment, and relented. “Fine. But only for the tournament.”

“Of course,” Diana said gleefully, though Anne caught her fist bumping Cole under the table.

_High road, high road, high road,_ Anne told herself as she headed to the Great Hall that evening, Diana skipping by her side, excited by the prospect of having the old Anne back soon enough. She planned to pull Gilbert after dinner, she could smooth things over then. The thought of conceding the argument had first put her off, but the more she thought about having his hand in hers again, his arm around her shoulder, his lips flush to hers… well, maybe that would be enough.

The Ravenclaw table was full - Roy smiled politely to her from the end of the table, and Anne returned it sort of weakly. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but at least the rumors would be squashed if she reunited with Gilbert, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. 

Anne and Diana took seats across from Cole and Charlie as usual, who were chatting again about Charlie’s muggle girlfriend.

“So, another day with no post from your Muggle friend, Charlie?” 

“She has a name!”

“Alright, shut it, you two,” Diana interrupted once they had sat down. “Dumbledore’s about to talk."

Sure enough, their Headmaster had approached the eagle podium, and the loud voices in the Great Hall died down. He smiled colloquially at them. 

“I have a brief announcement,” he said, and Anne hoped that the faint smile on his face was a good sign. “As you all know, the Triwizard tournament aims to facilitate interscholastic cooperation among the wizarding schools of Europe, and as such there are traditions which seek to uphold these values and, frankly, make this whole thing a great deal more _fun_.”

“I mean, the griffin fights were pretty fun, weren’t they?” Charlie grinned, nudging Cole. 

“Maybe for you!” Anne muttered.

“By this I of course mean the ancient tradition of the Yule Ball. As students of Hogwarts will know already, given that we revived a similar tradition during our last year, the ball will be open to fourth years and above, and is a chance for us all to enjoy ourselves and our new company.”

He looked graciously to the other Headmasters.

“Another ball,” Diana whispered excitedly. “I should have known from the school lists - we were asked to bring dress robes again, weren’t we?”

Anne was reminded of the year before, when they had revived the winter ball for school morale through all the Ministry chaos. She had gone with Gilbert then - before they were together - and it had actually been quite fun. She thought fondly of dancing awkwardly with him, laughing, touching for the first time. Anne fought the urge to glance over towards him, suddenly aware of the amount of girls who would see this as their opportunity to snap him up before Anne came to her senses. Something prickled inside her.

“The ball will take place on Christmas day, from eight o’ clock until midnight. I ask that the champions see me in the chamber off the hall tonight at nine - other than that, I have no immediate news. Let’s tuck in!”

Food appeared on the tables, and they all started eating hungrily. Anne picked at her chicken, now a bit more worried to speak to Gilbert. She couldn’t help noticing that Roy was also glancing hopefully towards her at the end of the table.

“So Cole will go with Eliot again,” Charlie said, already counting them off on his fingers. “Anne and Gilbert, surely - I think they might explode if they went with anyone else - and I suppose that leaves us, Diana!”

“You suppose,” Diana shook her head. “Won’t Miss Muggle disapprove?”

“She would support my participation in Hogwarts extracurriculars,” Charlie responded matter-of-factly.

They finished dinner, and their plates cleared magically. Students began standing - Diana gave Anne a sharp elbow to the side.

“Catch him before she leaves!” she hissed. “Or, more importantly, before some silly fourth year asks him!”

Anne rolled her eyes, but got to her feet, making her way towards the Gryffindor table through the crowd of students filtering out of the hall. She finally located him at the far end of the table - she started making her way there, but suddenly felt a tug on her arm.

When the thick of the students had made their way out, she saw who it was. Roy Gardner was standing there, somehow looking small despite how he towered over her. Anne felt uncomfortable again, but she couldn’t help noticing that he _was_ in fact very handsome. He was the sort of boy she might have dreamed would be interested in her when she was younger… but now she was just considering how to escape this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Listen, Anne, I don’t want to overstep,” he started bashfully.

Her heart dropped. _You’re kidding_.

“ … I just, well, you know how I feel, Rita already sort of spilled it over the front page of her article, and I know you’re not on good terms with Blythe…”

 _Please don’t_.

“ … so I thought, well, maybe you’d want to go with me instead? To the ball, I mean?” 

Anne stood very still for a couple of moments in shock. She blinked too, hoping maybe this was just her imagination, but when she opened her eyes, he was still standing there, his dark eyes expectant.

“I - I really appreciate it, Roy, but I don’t know that it’s such a great idea right now,” Anne said quickly. She wanted to turn around, unsure if Gilbert had left the hall now - she suddenly wished she hadn’t waited until now when there had been so many opportunities for her talk to him before. 

“Right, um..."

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Anne said genuinely as she turned and left him standing red-faced at the entrance. 

There were still some students lingering behind - Anne scanned the Gryffindor table, and relief spreaded through her when she saw his dark hair among them, but it immediately faded when she saw the baby blue robes beside him.

Winifred threw back her head, laughing at something, and her golden hair fell effortlessly behind her in a way that made Anne’s blood boil. She considered scrapping the plan, but also felt that there could be no turning back now - Diana would never let her live it down - so she stalked over to them, her familiar anger returning.

“Am I interrupting?” Anne said coolly when she approached. Gilbert turned around, looking surprised - Winifred just smiled cheerfully.

“Of course not,” she said. “Talk to you later, Gil!”

She strode off, her hair floating behind her in its curls, and Anne could have sworn that she must have been part-Veela. She stared after her for a moment before collecting herself, and whipped back around to face Gilbert.

“'Gil?'” she said, raising a derisive eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were so close.”

“And you’re not close with Roy?” Gilbert argued, an edge of frustration in his voice. Anne went pink, realizing that he must have seen them speaking from across the hall.

“How many times do I have to tell you, _no_!” she said sharply.

“Then how come you’re allowed to talk to him, and I’m not allowed to talk to Winifred?” 

“I wasn’t - we weren’t - he was asking me to the ball!”

“So what, you came over to let me know?” Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "How good of you."

“Why are you being ridiculous?” Anne exclaimed in frustration, but he brushed past her, heading for the door again.

Anne groaned in frustration. She considered going after him, but she didn’t see how it wouldn’t just end in another argument, and she was so _tired_ of fighting with him. _If it hadn’t been for the stupid tournament, none of this would be happening,_ Anne thought crossly as she marched back to the Ravenclaw common room.

Diana, Cole, and Charlie were waiting for her by the fire when she got back. Anne trudged over to the spot between Diana and Cole and sunk into the cushion, covering her face with her hands.

“Anne, what happened?” Diana asked gently.

"Don't ever let me date anyone again, Diana. This is too hard."

An hour later, long after Anne had recounted the story and they had tirelessly discussed how to move forward, she was slipping out in the corridor to head back to the Great Hall. Hours before, she had hoped to be reunited with Gilbert, but that felt like a distant dream now, and Anne was settling on the idea that they were destined to just be rivals, as they had been for their first four years at Hogwarts. As she decided on this, though, she felt even worse than before.

It was several minutes past nine when she stepped into the Great Hall and headed towards the chamber they had been in after the Goblet revealed their names. Filch had tried to stop her on her way - it was five minutes to curfew and she was headed in the opposite direction of her dormitory - and despite explaining the reason, he wouldn’t budge until Professor McGonagall came looking for her. 

When she entered the chamber, the other five champions were waiting already. Roy didn’t meet her eye, and Gilbert seemed to be employing the same attitude, because he hardly turned his head when she walked in. Anne moved reluctantly to stand at his side, her resolve hardening even more.

“Welcome,” Dumbledore said, sweeping into the chamber last. The other Headmasters were curiously absent, but McGonagall and Snape were standing behind him on either side, the latter leering at them unpleasantly. 

“As you know, the Yule Ball is a large part of the spirit of the Triwizard tournament,” Dumbledore said evenly. “And the champions, as the figures of the tournament, have a role in it as well. Typically, the three champions and their dates would be the first to take the floor.”

Anne almost laughed, picturing Gilbert and his less-than-optimal dancing in front of the school, but the memory faded as fast as it came.

“Given, however, that we now have six pairs, we think it would be most appropriate for each champion to attend with their partner.”

“What?” Winifred interjected. “Why?”

“Isn’t this supposed to be an opportunity for ‘fraternization between the schools?’” Fred added angrily.

“I understand that this puts a limitation on you all,” Dumbledore responded calmly. “Trust me, I want nothing more than you to bring whomever you choose, but the panel wishes it so, and I am merely conveying their message. After the first dance, you are all free to spend your nights as you please. That is all.”

Anne glanced over to Gilbert, who still wasn’t looking at her. As if things weren’t bad enough, now she wouldn’t be returning home for the holidays, and instead would have to spend her Christmas night with her angry boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend. She wasn't even sure of that anymore.

Anne would certainly have preferred another round with the griffin.


	10. A Figure in the Cup

When Anne peeled back the hospital wing curtain, there were no signs that anyone had visited. The side tables on either side of the bed were vacant; Anne was reminded of her trips to the hospital wing last year, and how her friends had overflowed the same tables with various goodies, cards, and candy.

She wasn’t sure if it was her place to even be visiting - or if she’d be received well at all. They had only heard whispers about what had happened; apparently, one of the other N.E.W.T. Herbology classes had gone awry and the seer’s sage had sent a couple of students to the hospital wing with horrible hallucinations. Charlie had been nearby - he was still taking Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid - and had described the ear splitting scream that had come from Greenhouse 4, and he’d thought someone had died.

Salvia divinorum wasn’t _truly_ harmful though - Anne knew this from their last few Herbology lessons - the hallucinations weren’t real. Even so, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like.

Anne pulled a chair over to the bed; its scraping noise was the only that broke through the silence, and it woke up the only remaining occupant of the hospital wing.

“Anne?” Josie sat up, woken from her stupor. “What are you doing here?”

“I just - wanted to see that you were okay,” Anne said quickly, unsure of how to proceed, and less sure of why she had come in the first place.

“Oh,” Josie said, and she frowned not in discontentment but in concentration. She still seemed a bit foggy. “But we’re not friends.”

Anne almost laughed a bit. “Well - I know, but it seemed pretty bad what had happened.”

“Oh, yes,” Josie said, still sounding a bit off. Anne wondered what was in that cup on her bedside table. “It was really horrible… I can’t quite remember it all….”

“What do you remember?”

“It wasn’t real,” Josie said, seeming confident in this fact. “But I could see it as if it was… horrible things, and sad things… as if they were there with me in the room. But Madam Pomfrey gave me some valerian root, I feel better now…”

“The Draught of Peace,” Anne murmured as she glanced at the goblet beside Josie, remembering its properties from one of their old Potions lessons. She realized that it must have been valerian root that Sprout had given them for their lessons, though it seemed Josie had taken a stronger dose. She went on as if she didn’t hear Anne. 

**“** Anne, I have to tell you something,” she said, her brow furrowing again in concentration. “I didn’t mean what I said in that article - it was before… well...”

So Josie had talked to Rita before their detentions together. Anne felt a sort of small peace in knowing that maybe they really weren’t enemies anymore, if not friends. The end of her mouth curved up.

“That’s okay, Josie. Go ahead and rest.”

“Thanks, Anne. Not even Billy came,” Josie said quietly, her eyes already sliding shut. She rolled over, and Anne smiled sadly at her back before getting up to leave.

On Christmas morning, Anne woke up first. At the foot of her bed was a precarious stack of presents; it took a lot of self-control to wake up Diana first before diving into it. She had received sweets from Green Gables and a card in which Matthew and Marilla told her they missed her - it sounded a bit stern, though, and Anne thought that maybe they hadn’t forgiven her from skipping out on them again for the holidays (even though _everyone_ was because of the Yule Ball). Ruby and Moody had given a joint gift: a mini model Firebolt which zipped around the room as soon as Anne let go of it, making them all laugh as they fought to catch it. A larger parcel at the bottom was signed Cole and Diana - Anne unwrapped it curiously. 

It was a Cleansweep Six. Her jaw dropped, and she snapped up her head to see Diana smiling brightly at her. “Oh, Diana, it’s too much!”

“Of course it isn’t!” Diana chirped. “Cole’s parents bought him a new broom over the summer after this one got a bit destroyed when his little brother left it out during a storm. But we’ve been mending it since - it should be just fine now - and we hardly had to pay a thing, so you _have_ to take it!”

“It’s so wonderful to have a broom of my own,” Anne mused, running her fingers along the smooth wood of the handle. “If only we still had Quidditch.”

“Well, I have no doubt you’ll get plenty of use next year,” Diana said.

“It’s wonderful, Anne!” Ka’kwet added, joining them. 

They went through the last of their presents - Diana loved the self-inking eagle quill that Anne had got her, though Anne felt now that it wasn’t enough - and headed down to breakfast. Most of the Great Hall was full when they got there, which was typically a rarity for Christmas, although now it was mostly fourth years and above at the four House tables. The enchanted ceiling reflected the snowy sky outside, garlands hung on the tables and walls, and several enormous Christmas trees lined the walls. The largest of them was centered behind the staff table and shone with a glittering star that sent reflective spots dancing around the room. 

Anne couldn’t help looking over to the Gryffindor table as she piled her plate high with sausages and eggs. Though she and Gilbert hadn’t been speaking since their last argument, she had still felt a bit downcast to find that he hadn’t gotten her anything this year - although she knew her gift for him was still neatly wrapped under her bed.

He hadn’t even spoken about the fact that they would be attending the Yule Ball together by rule. The thought of it left her a little conflicted too - she wasn’t sure what to feel when she looked at him anymore. Part of her wanted to hit him - a smaller part wanted to kiss him - but more than anything, she wished that none of it had never happened. 

Classes felt long that day, as anticipation for the ball that night mounted. Charlie had convinced Diana to go with him - Anne had prodded her about Jerry but to no avail - and Cole was bringing Eliot. She was slightly heartened at the idea of spending the night with her friends, if Gilbert was going to ditch her at first opportunity - which Anne was sure he would.

The status of their relationship was still painfully indefinite, to the dismay of many of the witches at Hogwarts, Anne expected. They hadn’t properly broken up, but was this any better? They certainly didn’t seem to be together anymore. The thought of this combined with the fact that they’d be forced together by the tournament for the rest of the year made Anne’s stomach turn. _And yet_ , a more hopeful side of her said, _you haven’t broken up yet_.

Anne pulled on her silver dress robes as Diana pulled on navy ones. She was reminded of their prior year, the unfamiliar excitement of a dance, the even more unfamiliar feeling of having a boy to go with. She and Gilbert had been just friends then, and Anne wondered if perhaps they should have stayed that way, for they certainly wouldn’t have fallen out if they had. She sighed. There were too many questions and what-ifs.

When they were satisfied with their hair and Diana had smoothed out her robes for the fifteenth time, they finally descended the steps to meet Cole and Charlie in the common room. Cole smiled widely, looking handsome in his dark dress robes; Charlie gaped, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, at Diana. 

“You boys look nice,” Diana greeted them as they met. “Shall we go?”

Charlie seemed to regain his composure, because he offered his arm goofily to Diana and said, “Of course! Now, I have to ask - are you an angel? Because…”

His voice trailed off as Diana dragged him into the corridor; Anne and Cole fell in step with each other, lagging a bit behind as they started towards the entrance hall.

“You look beautiful,” Cole said encouragingly. “Hoping to scramble his head? I think it’s going to work.”

Anne rolled her eyes at him, but held herself noticeably straighter as they walked into the entrance hall. It was packed with students wearing colorful dress robes and milling around in tight knit groups. Anne caught Josie’s eye for a moment - she was wearing robes of deep green, standing beside Billy, who was boasting animatedly about something to a group of Slytherins. She gave Anne a small nod, but looked away before she could even acknowledge it. Anne was happy to see that she was at least out of the hospital wing now.

Anne turned and noticed a small group of Hufflepuffs where Ruby and Moody were chatting happily in matching robes of gold - Eliot extricated himself from the group and hurried over to join them, slinging an arm across Cole’s shoulder.

“You lot look lovely,” he said, polite as ever, with a grin. “Anne, McGonagall has the champions over there.”

Eliot jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where Professor McGonagall was ushering the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons champions together. Suddenly, Gilbert appeared from a crowd of Gryffindors, wearing sweeping dark robes and looking a little more handsome than Anne had prepared herself for. He joined the group, Anne could see him speaking casually to Winifred. She gritted her teeth and headed over, trying not to care about how she looked.

“Ah, Miss Shirley, wonderful - that’s everyone,” Professor McGonagall said with a tight smile. She was wearing plum colored robes and a sharply pointed hat. “Now, everyone take the arm of your partner, we’ll be entering the Great Hall in a line of pairs, and then you will have the first dance - _as tradition dictates_ ,” she added sternly when Stella snorted inconspicuously. 

Gilbert turned his head to look at her finally, and Anne met his gaze hopefully. She saw something soften in his eyes as they trailed over her for an excruciating moment before he blinked and looked away. 

“Anne,” he said cordially, holding out his arm. When she took it, it felt as cold as his voice.

She didn’t say anything, for fear of her voice breaking, but just stared irritatedly at the back of Winifred’s perfectly knotted bun. Most of the other students had entered the Great Hall by now, and McGonagall finally signaled for them to enter along with them. 

The Great Hall had been transformed. Everything seemed to be tinted blue, from the polished floors to the snowy ceiling. The House tables were gone, replaced by the circular tables around the edge of the room that Anne remembered from last year. Students occupied all of them, applauding wildly as the champions filed down the center aisle towards the dance floor. Anne clutched tightly to Gilbert’s arm out of nerves, though if he noticed, he did not say anything. 

The three pairs made it onto the dance floor, and Anne felt a little petrified under the eyes of the whole school. The applause died down, replaced by the blaring waltz that now filled the hall. They were spread equally on the floor now; she turned to face Gilbert, and he reached mechanically for her waist and hand.

She had remembered Gilbert’s dancing to be atrocious, and had thought hopefully that it would break the ice between them now - but he seemed to be carrying on well as they danced - he didn’t trod on Anne’s foot once. When his hands slipped down to her waist to lift her into the air, his eyes flickered with something that resembled the Gilbert she knew, though it faded resolutely as soon as she noticed it.

The dance was drawing to an end; Anne saw students eagerly waiting to join them on the dance floor in her peripheral. She knew now that Gilbert would be free to leave her - ignore her the rest of the night - and a frustration rose inside her. She was tired of this waiting and watching and never speaking to each other, not to mention the uncertainty of it all. The last couple notes of the waltz played, and several pairs of students had leapt to their feet to join them, and Anne could feel Gilbert’s grip on her loosening, he was going to leave… 

She seized his wrist and pulled him back to her, both her hands reaching up to rest around his face. His lips parted in surprise, his brow furrowed, but he did not move away, and Anne felt the contact like electricity pulsing through her hands.

“Are we broken up?” she blurted out in a sort of fragmented, small voice that sounded much more scared than she would’ve liked.

“What?” he said softly, frowning. “No, I - do you want to break up?”

“No,” she said firmly, her hands slipped down to lock around his neck. She was glad that there were enough others dancing around them that no one was paying them any attention anymore. “No, but you’re going to listen to me until I’m done talking now.”

Gilbert opened his mouth and closed it, a smile nearly playing on his lips as he gazed down at her.

“I only want to be with you, and I have only ever wanted to be with you. Rita Skeeter lied, I was stupid to be angry, you were stupid to believe her, and I can’t believe that I have gone this long without speaking to you, and I don’t ever want to again. Is that okay with you?”

He paused for a moment, an expression that Anne couldn’t identify on his face as his eyes raked hers, and then his mouth curved into a smile.

“That’s okay with me.”

There was no hesitance for either of them in the moment when Anne brought his lips crashing to hers.

The winter holidays would have been much more enjoyable if they hadn’t had a Triwizard task to prepare for, but Anne was more than happy to work on it now that it gave her an excuse to spend time alone with Gilbert again. They alternated between legitimately puzzling over the cup together in the library and ‘practicing spells’ in dark empty classrooms - keeping herself away from him was now a much more difficult task after their time apart - though it had been rather embarrassing when Flitwick had caught them in his classroom when they thought it would be empty. 

Though they tried, the cup seemed to reveal nothing to them. It was small, reflective, and gold, but showed no other outstanding attributes - even when Gilbert kicked it across the Quidditch pitch in frustration, claiming to be testing its durability (to no avail). 

On one of their library evenings, they were nearing the end of the night with no findings on the cup. The rest of the library was deserted; people were enjoying their winter holidays, and with term about to resume, they were especially keen to hold onto the last few days free of work. 

The cup was sitting on the table in front of them; Gilbert was slumped beside it, twirling it absently on the desk. Anne was pacing behind him, running through the things they had already tried.

“It doesn’t burn, explode, or multiply… it’s enchanted, but _Aparecium_ didn’t work to reveal any hidden message… what are we missing, Gil?”

“A hammer?” he mumbled unhelpfully.

“Wake up,” Anne said, pulling at his shoulder so his head was off the table. “We’re running out of time before the second task.”

“Whatever it is, don’t you think we can figure it out without a clue? We’ve tried everything.”

“The cup was protected by a griffin… it’s impervious to most spells… yet it still has to be vulnerable to something, something that we would think of,” Anne muttered, pacing around their table. 

“Wait,” Gilbert said, his head snapping up suddenly. “Remember how we each had to have a hand on the cup in order to finish?”

“Yes,” Anne said slowly.

“Well, maybe the charm won’t work unless we’re touching it - it probably has to do with the pair of us - everything’s been themed around that this year, teamwork.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Anne stopped in her place, then rushed to sit beside Gilbert. They each seized one of the handles of the cup and pulled out their wands.

“Together?” he murmured. They each poised their wands towards the cup.

“Together.”

“ _Aparecium_.” 

Their reflections in the shiny golden cup distorted; the face of the cup was changing, as if the images were swirling in some sort of fog. Suddenly the gold dimmed to show a furling gray smoke, which curled in a way that Anne thought to be strangely familiar… 

Before she could place it, the image distorted once more; now, cloaked figures appeared, their black shrouds billowing threateningly, though their faces were engulfed in darkness. Then there was a flash of green, and they saw their reflections blinking back at them in the golden cup, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Whoa,” Gilbert whispered, and Anne let herself breathe again. 

“That fog, the way it was moving… I remember seeing it,” Anne said, her brow furrowing.

“Where was it? A field?” Gilbert added unsurely. “Those figures… that had to be dementors, right?”

“I guess,” Anne murmured. “But why would they show us that - how can we prepare for it? The two of us have barely practiced with producing a Patronus…” 

“The dementors can’t attack, though,” Gilbert responded pensively. “It’s against Ministry law - they must be guarding something, or watching over the task…”

“Either way, it’s bad enough that they’ll be there,” Anne said. “With the dementors sucking the happiness out of us … it’ll be impossible to focus.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Gilbert said reassuringly, his hand reaching for hers. “We always do.”

Anne returned his smile, but the warmth of his hand was not enough to completely dispel the coldness inside her, and the flashing images of the cup the played again and again in her mind.

“So, the Gryffindor ended up solving the clue, huh?”

“What?” Anne said, jerking away from him. “We did it together!”

“You just don’t want to admit I’m clever too.”

“Maybe,” Anne rolled her eyes, and Gilbert opened his mouth to continue.

She kissed him, mostly to shut him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to upload recently; I've been busier! Also, this story is much longer than I anticipated - there's still a lot left! Thanks to those of you who continue to read and comment as always, you all make writing this so much better.


	11. The Second Task

Anne was off in front of the group on the morning of February the twenty-second as they trotted off towards Herbology. Cole and Diana were, Anne assumed, trading worried opinions about Anne’s behavior that morning, several paces behind. Anne didn’t trouble herself with this though; she was still turning over the clue in her mind, thinking about how unprepared they were. The task was  _ that night _ , and while she and Gilbert had technically revealed the secret of the cup, she still had no idea how to prepare herself for what was coming.

She and Gilbert had, at the very least, attempted the Patronus charm together. Anne was able to conjure a silver mist at the least - she couldn’t quite get hers to take full form though, as they hadn’t yet covered it in class and Professor Stacy was forbidden to aid them. Gilbert, however, had barely gotten his wand to light at all with the silver light of a Patronus, which was dampening his spirit so badly that Anne could hardly convince him to keep practicing with her as the task drew nearer. She knew it was difficult though, especially because Gilbert was so used to having a natural knack for magic.

They could perhaps defend themself against a dementor, Anne thought as she approached the herbology greenhouse. But that still left the boggarts and the strange, familiar fog that Anne had seen. Though they knew the spell for boggarts, Anne couldn’t help but wonder if it would be much more difficult with the dementors around to suck the bravery out of them. And Anne was still convinced that the fog would have some sort of additional magical properties to hinder them… 

Anne plopped herself down at their usual Herbology table. They were working with bouncing bulbs today, though Anne was quite distracted as she pulled on her dragonhide gloves and waited for the rest of her table to arrive.

Diana and Cole sat down beside her a few moments later, and Eliot took the fourth seat just as Professor Sprout was beginning her lesson. 

“Well,” Diana prodded a bouncing bulb cautiously. “I know these have been a bit of a nightmare, but it’s way better than that stupid seer’s sage. I hated wearing those clothespins.”

_ Seer’s sage. _ Anne’s head pounded. She shut her eyes tightly, willed the images of the cup back into her mind, saw once again the curling fog… and in the corner of her vision, a leafy, unassuming plant.

“That’s what I saw,” Anne hissed, as quietly as she could manage to avoid Sprout’s attention. “The salvia divinorum is the plant that created the fog I saw in the cup!”

Diana and Cole looked thoughtfully back at her. She had explained the clue as best she could to them, but they hadn’t thought of anything either.

“Anne - you can’t go in against that alone, you saw Josie!” Diana whispered back, voice suddenly urgent. “If you’re defenseless, the hallucinations will prevent you from doing anything!”

Anne hadn’t gotten there yet. She was still thinking, realizations clicking in her head. “So that’s why Sprout’s raising a huge batch of these plants… they must have asked her to for the tournament… but the only way to combat it is with a ton of that valerian root.”

Anne thought of Josie, dazed in the hospital wing from the root. She wondered nervously if it would be much better than the hallucinations if she ended up spacing out in the middle of a life threatening task. 

“Valerian root can protect us,” Anne mumbled. “But that’s not in our basic potion supplies, only Snape’s got it in his storeroom…”

“Maybe you could try the hospital wing?” Cole suggested hopefully, knowing that stealing from Snape’s stores was a last ditch option.

“No, he brews potions for her, she doesn’t keep it in there,” Diana responded glumly. “Anne, at least we have Potions before tonight… maybe we can try to get in there.”

“Quiet over there!” Sprout finally admonished them, tilting her head sternly so that her patched witch’s hat nearly fell off her head. “This is important, listen closely…”

But paying attention in Herbology was the last thing on Anne’s mind. 

“We’re screwed.”

“No, we have a plan,” Anne frowned, though she hated to admit that she entirely agreed with Gilbert that it wasn’t a good one.

“Anne, if we don’t get that valerian root, we’re gonna go crazy in there. Forget winning the task - do you remember Josie? Everyone said it was horrible, she was screaming…”

“Josie didn’t eat the root,” Anne said, though her voice wavered slightly. “If we get it, we should be fine… we  _ will  _ be. Diana and Cole will distract Snape, and I’ll slip into his back room.”

“You’re crazy, you know,” Gilbert said fondly, tucking a stray hair behind Anne’s ear. “Sometimes I wonder if you belong in Gryffindor.”

“Maybe, but I’m far too clever,” Anne said with a grin and kissed him on the cheek. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck,” Gilbert said, watching her go as she started towards the dungeons.

The momentary bravery she had felt with Gilbert was slipping away as Anne got closer to Snape’s classroom door. It would be difficult to draw Snape’s attention away - Diana would no doubt lose some points for Ravenclaw, but it was a necessary sacrifice. Getting the root before the task was imperative. Anne wondered if the other two pairs of students had figured their clues out, and if they knew what they’d be up against.

Snape was leering at them from the front as they filtered in; Anne took a place close to the back of the room. Anne eyed the door to Snape’s storeroom wearily, her stomach turning at the thought of getting caught by him. 

Snape began the lesson in his usual fashion, waving his wand such that the instructions for their potions appeared on the board behind them.

“We will be brewing the Elixir to Induce Euphoria today,” Snape said icily. “I will be walking around to ensure that you all don’t embarrass me with your attempts at it - few students can brew it well on their first try.”

Anne cast a sideways glance at Diana. They were sitting on opposite sides of the room today, which was a bit conspicuous, but Snape didn’t seem to notice. He was already looming over Charlie’s cauldron, as if expecting him to make a mistake already. 

She set to work dropping her shrivelfig into her cauldron, looking up occasionally to meet Diana’s eyes. Anne could see her shifting, her hands under the table rather than by her cauldron, but she was sitting far enough to the side that Snape hadn’t made it over to her yet.

Anne was stirring her potion (four times anticlockwise) when it happened. Diana’s potion began sizzling loudly, and suddenly the murky gold potion began bubbling over the edge of her cauldron. Red sparks shot up from the center, barely contained by the thick liquid - Anne knew it to be one of those Zonko’s fireworks that Diana had set off under her potion.

“What do you think you’re  _ doing!”  _ Snape shouted, seething. He whisked over towards Diana and Ruby, who each looked terrified - Ruby dropped her wand into her potion and had to weakly rescue it. 

Anne slipped out of her seat and backed away carefully, shrinking towards the edge of the room; everyone’s eyes were fixed on the back of Snape’s head as he roared at Diana, waving his wand to contain the potion which was now threatening to slosh onto the floor.

She felt her hand on the doorknob and slipped inside quickly, her heart pounding. Snape’s private stores were organized meticulously, but there were so many different ingredients that Anne found it quite daunting to search for the valerian root. She began opening drawers at random - some were labeled, others had vague warnings or etchings that she didn’t understand. Snape’s voice was still echoing through the door, Anne could hear, demanding an answer for her behavior.

She had searched all of the shelves of the first dresser when, kneeling, she opened the bottom drawer, which looked scuffed as if it had been opened a lot. Inside, a small woody root lay, and Anne felt relief spreading through her. It was here - she and Gilbert would make it… 

Anne pulled the root out, and to her dismay, it was barely the size of the dose that Sprout would give them for Herbology lessons. She felt around the drawer but there was no more - Snape must have used up his stores between Sprout’s herbology lessons and the Draughts of Peace that he had to brew for Madame Pomfrey. 

She wanted to continue searching in the hopes that there was something else around somewhere, but she could hear Diana stuttering back to Snape and knew she could only buy so much more time. Anne shoved the small root in her pocket and cracked the door open.

Snape’s back was still to her, so she slipped through the door and back to her seat. Only Diana and Ruby caught her eye - the latter looking quite confused, but remaining quiet. Anne gave her a small nod, but she was mentally running through all the problems they would face with such a small amount of the root to split between them. Would that be enough?

“Forty points from Ravenclaw,” Snape snarled. “And I won’t hesitate to take more for any additional mischief you cause, Miss Barry, if you even attempt to give me the chance.”

Anne kept her head down for the rest of class, the weight of the root in her pocket as the only comfort for the amount of points they had just lost for Ravenclaw.

“Good luck, Anne!”

Anne could only make a sort of strained face back at Moody Spurgeon and Eliot Pierce as they offered smiles and passed, headed for the crowds. This task was set in the pitch again, but without the usual bright lights of Quidditch games at night, the entire field was enveloped in darkness. Anne had even heard that there had been a spell cast to shroud the crowd and muffle the sound of them, so that the champions would be all alone in the dark before them. 

Anne reached for Gilbert’s hand beside her, and felt his grabbing for hers too. They would be going soon - Stella and Fred were already out there - they were going in the order that they had placed in the first task. 

The only others in the tent now were the Beauxbatons pair and Atticus Forbes. The Ministry man was looking rather cheerful, and would throw them lighthearted words of advice every now and then. Anne wished she could just tell him to shut up. 

“Looks like they’ve just about finished,” Forbes said airily, though Anne had no idea how he knew, because there was absolute silence in the tent. 

She pulled the root shakily out of her pocket, splitting it in two as best as she could, and shoved some into Gilbert’s hand. They stood up, and Forbes motioned for them to follow him out.

It was still eerily quiet as they approached the large walls around the pitch, considering that everyone was in there watching. Anne was about to say something when Forbes whipped around.

“Alright now, Miss Shirley, to your left - Mr. Blythe, to your right.”

Anne and Gilbert gaped back. Two entrances had formed, at least fifty feet apart, on the walls. 

“We’re going in separately?” Anne said shakily.

“The whole point is that we get to work together,” Gilbert argued.

“These are the terms,” Forbes said cheerfully, but forced them apart towards their respective doors. “Your task is to find each other. Once you do, send up gold sparks. Good luck.”

Anne looked over her shoulder towards Gilbert and saw her concern reflected in his eyes, but all they could do was trudge towards the two doors. Anne opened hers, which led to a dark, lamplit chamber. It ran along the wall - Anne was moving farther from Gilbert, through the path, and it seemed that when she finally reached another door, that she was likely on the opposite side of the pitch from him. Anne extracted the valerian root from her pocket and stuffed it into her mouth, chewing it as quickly as possible - she scrunched her nose at its bitterness.

Feeling a sense of calmness washing over her, she grabbed the knob firmly and turned it, stepping out onto the pitch. Normally it would feel familiar, having been a Quidditch player, but this was entirely different. Anne wasn’t met with the screams of the crowds, or the gleaming sun on the grass, nor was she accompanied by her team. The only thing that met her when she opened the door was silence and darkness. The moon looming overhead was the only light. She could see no crowds.

The smooth grass of the Quidditch pitch was replaced by a patchy field. There were trees littering it, so that Anne could hardly see what was ahead - it was as if she had been transported into the Forbidden Forest. The clearing she was standing in had only a few stones jutting out of the ground. 

“ _ Lumos _ ,” Anne muttered, wishing she at least had Gilbert with her to calm her nerves. The peaceful sensation of the root felt as if it had evaporated; she felt entirely alone. 

The end of her wand was lit, and Anne stumbled towards one of the stones, noticing that there was a strange etching along it. Anne bent towards it to read it. 

**WALTER AND BERTHA SHIRLEY**

She jumped away from it immediately, a sense of horror washing over her. Her parents. Anne felt panic rising inside her, and an overwhelming urge to scream came over her, but another, more rational part of her spoke up.

It didn’t make sense for her parents’ gravestones to be here. She had never even seen them - she wasn’t even sure where they were, so how would the task have been able to show them to her?

Anne reached forwards and raked a hand across the stone where her parents’ names were etched, but her hand passed through it like a hologram. It dissolved for a moment into curling white fog, and a heavy realization sunk into her in the moments before the fog reformed into stone. 

“Salvia divinorum,” Anne murmured. It was the valerian root that was keeping her grounded, but she evidently didn’t have enough to entirely overcome its effects. She was hallucinating - she knew that, but it looked so real… 

“Anne,” a voice called. Anne felt her hair standing on end. She felt something cold run through her like ice, focusing at a point on her shoulder. She turned around, stumbling backwards, and her eyes widened.

She appeared as more of a silvery flicker than any of the ghosts Anne had seen. The Grey Lady was a definite figure, a woman - the light in front of Anne appeared more as a silvery specter, her face barely visible. 

But Anne knew her face - she’d seen a photo, once. The image had haunted and comforted her for years; the only evidence that Anne had once had a mother who was a witch like her, who was different like her, who had the same red hair and sparkling eyes.

“Mother?” Anne whispered. The phantom seemed to smile, though Anne could barely make out her features. 

“Anne,” the ghostlike image of Bertha repeated, floating closer to Anne. She didn’t seem to be able to say anything more.

Anne reached out a hand tentatively. She felt tears pricking in her eyes. Suddenly the task didn’t seem very important; all that mattered was her mother before her, just a whisper of light, yet so  _ real _ … 

And then the image’s features began to distort. The light was darkening, the long hair of Anne’s mother was curving into a dark shroud that fell over her face. The soft hand reaching towards Anne was peeling away into a skeletal form, its fingers still reaching out towards her. 

Anne had hardly processed what had happened until her hand was firmly around her wand, stumbling backwards and shouting, “ _ Expecto Patronum!” _

A faint white light sputtered out of Anne’s wand, barely deflecting the dementor. Anne was still backing up, moving deeper into the forest - she knew there could be danger behind her but nothing seemed more horrible than the dementor before her. It was closing in; the darkness under its cloak drowning Anne into a feeling of hopelessness. She could barely recall anything happy, the memories felt too far away. Her feet gave way, and Anne felt the cold dirt under her, the deafening silence falling over her, and the dementor coming closer.

And suddenly the memory of what she was doing came flooding back, and only one objective remained:  _ Find Gilbert _ . And the thought of him was consuming: she thought of his eyes, burning into her; his hand, locked tightly to hers; his lips on hers, comforting and warm. 

“ _ Expecto Patronum!” _ Anne repeated, brandishing her wand before her. Silver light poured out, forming a white shield that deflected the dementor away. It tried over and over to penetrate it, but it bounced back each time, and Anne managed to ward it off long enough to turn towards the woods and flee. Her Patronus hadn’t taken a corporeal form, but the shield had been enough, and Anne didn’t dare look behind her to see if anything was following her.

She was now vaguely aware of how the fog of the salvia divinorum was affecting her, but it didn’t help to know that she was possibly hallucinating everything around her. At least the valerian root allowed her to keep her nerves under control, though Anne could still feel anxiety eating away at her. She continued pushing on, with only the feeling of sharp branches of the trees as she pushed her way through the dense forest, snapping and cracking more loudly than Anne would have liked.

The pitch wasn’t  _ that  _ large - how was Anne unable to find Gilbert? Sure it was dark, and she wasn’t even sure of how much of it was real, but he had to be around somewhere. 

“Gilbert?” Anne called out cautiously. She swiveled around, expecting something else to jump out at her, but there was only silence. 

And then suddenly, an earsplitting scream. It was him, Anne knew it was him from the moment she heard it, and all the hair on her body stood on end. 

Without even thinking, her feet found their way towards the sound. The screams were continuing, Anne’s eyes were watering at the sound, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She had heard those shouts before, they were so familiar… 

Anne finally broke into a clearing and found him there, her heart nearly breaking at the sight. Gilbert was contorting painfully, the muffled screams echoing through the air. Anne’s head turned suddenly and she saw a face she had been trying to forget for the last year.

Phillips - their old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Anne knew then that it couldn’t be real; the fog was just replaying her most painful memories, but it didn’t matter. She threw herself towards Gilbert, reaching for him, ignoring the image of Phillips, and when she touched him he dissolved into smoke, and Phillips vanished in the distance. 

Anne was sobbing, and she didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She shut her eyes tightly and clutched her knees, trying to recompose herself, but her nerves were running rampant. 

Suddenly she felt something warm wrap around her shoulders; a distant voice, whispering urgently to her. 

“Anne,” Gilbert was saying, but her eyes were still closed, hot tears sliding down her cheeks. She knew it was him, the _real_ him.

He pulled her into his chest, and with his free hand, he sent golden sparks into the sky. It was over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super happy with this but finally posting again! Sorry for the super long break but I've been a bit busier lately. Hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll hopefully have another out much sooner.


	12. Nightmares and Daydreams

“Anne. Anne, wake up!”

A familiar finger prodded her in the back of the neck, prompting a sharp intake of air. Anne’s eyes blinked open slowly, squinting; the sunlight was filtering directly into her eyes through the canopy of the trees. Her surroundings began to register in her head again, and with each breath she felt the grass more solidly under her palms, the cool air in her lungs, and the smooth fabric of Gilbert’s robes under her head. She lifted it off his lap, rubbing her eyes, the distant sensation of a forgotten nightmare still lingering uncomfortably in her stomach. 

“You didn’t sleep again last night, huh?” Gilbert asked quietly, his tone laden with concern. Anne shrugged. There had been many sleepless nights in the two weeks since the second task, which Anne spent most of her time trying to forget. The event marked her and Gilbert’s overwhelming failure on behalf of Gryffindor - that much made her school life more difficult already, because everyone was clearly expecting Anne and Gilbert to pull ahead in this task - but even worse were the nightmares that reminded her every night of what she had seen in there. Sure, this competition wasn’t for the  _ faint of heart _ … but who would put teenagers up against their worst fears and most painful memories? 

“Talk to me,” Gilbert said gently, reaching for her hand. The gesture was so tender, so  _ real,  _ and Anne felt a sudden pang of regret about how she’d been shutting him out. She knew what Gilbert had seen in the second task. His father, locked up in Azkaban… his mother, who died so he could live… he even faced a pair of dementors before making it back to Anne. He had endured just as much as she had, and yet Anne felt so alone. Gilbert had been managing much better than her. Maybe he was used to this, used to coping.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, looking up at him. The sunlight had turned his sympathetic eyes green, and she was struck by a deep sense of fondness and appreciation for him. 

“You were having another nightmare, right?” he asked tentatively. “Just now. You were muttering something… you can’t keep falling asleep during the day, Anne. Can’t Madam Pomfrey give you something for sleep?”

Anne tilted her head. “Yeah, I just…”

“Don’t want to ask for help,” Gilbert finished for her. “But you should. There are a lot of people who really care about you, Anne. And no one wants to see you like this. Let me help you.”

“Okay,” she relented, meeting his gaze with glassy eyes.

He turned his head to look at her full-on, a rapt eagerness to the look on his face. 

“In the dreams, I see my mother. I saw her during the task. But she isn’t exactly real. And the moment I touch her, she always just… disappears.”

“Like with the fog?”

“Yeah. And there are other dreams.”

Gilbert shifted so that they were sitting side by side, their backs braced against the trunk of the oak tree. “Okay. What happens in those ones?”

“Same as what I saw, right before you found me. I see you. Dying.”

“Good to know that you dream of me dying,” Gilbert tried to nudge her with a half-smile, but Anne looked away. “Hey, you know I’m fine.”

“But it feels so real when it’s happening,” Anne said. “You don’t know what it’s like. How would you feel if you saw me under the Cruciatus curse every time you closed your eyes?”

Gilbert hesitated; Anne could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he drew a deep breath in and out. 

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

They sat in silence for a moment, looking out over the Black Lake. There were only a few students left outside; mostly sixth years who had free periods. Anne could spot Cole and Charlie messing around with Zonko’s prank items in the distance, drawing a small crowd of intrigued students.

“Remember, though, right after everything happened last year? I couldn’t sleep well for a long time,” Gilbert said after a few minutes. “But it went away. We made it out, we always do. My dad was safe, and you were safe. I even got you to kiss me.”

Anne’s face broke unintentionally into a small smile, which he reflected instantly. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re lucky to have me!”

“Oh shut up,” Anne rolled her head back onto his shoulder. Her chest felt a little lighter.

“Come on, Anne. Tell me you’re lucky to have me.”

“You’re lucky to have me.”

Gilbert huffed indignantly. His hand reached down to hers and laced their fingers together absently. “True enough.”

  
  


“Letter for you, Anne.”

Diana’s warning came just in time as Edmund dropped some mail down that nearly landed in her oatmeal. Anne grabbed it just in time.

“Ah, those Seeker reflexes,” Charlie said in commendation. “You miss Quidditch, Anne?”

“Pfft,” Anne said, sliding a finger under the seal of the letter to open it. “You think I wouldn’t trade these tasks for Quidditch practice in a heartbeat?”

“I don’t know,” Cole mumbled through a mouthful of toast. “I think you’re forgetting about Alice’s ‘training regimen for success.’ I think I puked a lung out that one time.”

Diana and Charlie laughed; Anne gave him a sympathetic smile. 

The letter was from Matthew and Marilla. Anne was relieved they hadn’t been reading the Daily Prophet lately; the knowledge that Anne was one of the champions would have resulted in disaster. Luckily Marilla was a Muggle, because Anne was sure if she figured out how to send a Howler, she’d be toast. 

Even when Rita Skeeter’s article had come out though, she had heard no indication from them that they were aware of what was happening. They didn’t often read it anyways - Marilla had little concern for magical happenings. As Anne scanned the letter, which detailed their hopes for the harvest and the pedestrian activities of Avonlea, she felt a new pang of guilt for keeping so much from them. 

She folded the letter and pocketed it, again turning her attention to her friends, who had fallen into uncharacteristic silence. Anne quickly spotted the source: Billy Andrews had walked into the Great Hall and seated himself on the vacant edge of the Slytherin table. His face was marked with dark undereye circles, and the way he lowered his head indicated a desire to be left alone.

“Come on, guys, don’t stare,” Anne said quietly. 

“We can’t help it,” Charlie whispered, though the Slytherin table was quite far enough that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. “You know what everyone’s been saying. Billy’s dad’s got his trial any day now.”

“We don’t know if any of that is true,” Diana said unconvincingly. 

“Maybe he deserves it, the prat,” Charlie muttered. 

“No one deserves to have a parent sent to Azkaban,” Anne said hollowly, and Charlie fell silent. “Even Billy.”

“Plus, he’s Jane’s dad too. She’s not so bad,” Cole added.

“But if what they’re saying is true, he could have been part of the same group of wizards who were plotting to infiltrate the Ministry last year!” Charlie said indignantly, abandoning the whisper. “You know, the ones who nearly killed Anne and Gilbert?”

A brief silence fell over the group and only the scraping of forks and plates from the others in the Great Hall could be heard. Anne felt their eyes on her, but she was glancing at Billy, who still hadn’t put any food on his plate. 

“It’s not his fault what his father’s done,” Anne muttered. “If he’s done something.”

“It worries me to think that there are more wizards out there like Phillips,” said Diana. 

“You don’t think that group could still be operating, do you?” Charlie asked.

“We don’t know if Phillips was the leader or not,” Cole argued.

Anne shifted in her seat. “Dumbledore told me last year that he suspected not. But if the Ministry has found Billy’s dad guilty, surely they’re working to identify the others.”

“ _ If  _ we can still trust the Ministry, even,” Charlie huffed.

“Of course we can,” Diana said, but a clear note of insincerity made its way into her voice. 

“Anne!”

Delphine Lacroix, one of Anne’s Quidditch teammates from last year, had approached. She was still carrying her Herbology textbook and her face was smudged with dirt.

“Professor Stacy was looking for you.”

“Thanks, Delly,” Anne gave her a bright smile, which she returned before speeding off to join some other fourth years sitting further down the table.

“What’s that about?” Cole asked as she began gathering up her things. 

Anne shrugged, but caught Diana’s eye as she stood. She knew Anne had missed a class, and even when she was there, she’d been distracted. Gilbert helped; he took her mind off it, gave her hope that she’d forget soon. But in Professor Stacy’s class they studied all the things that she used to love learning about - until she’d seen how horrible they can be in practice.

“See you guys,” Anne said with a wave before they could ask more about it. Her feet found their way towards Professor Stacy’s room on their own. She gazed at the portraits as she went - doubling back to take a longer route to avoid Peeves, who was now dumping water balloons on poor first-years leaving Charms. 

She made her way instead down a side corridor that she had rarely used before to cross the second floor. It was empty now - she appreciated the quiet, though it was a bit unusual to see an empty hall in Hogwarts at any time of day. 

Then she heard whispers coming from around the corner - one of the voices was familiar. She walked slowly, hoping that the conversation would end before she got close enough to seem like she was eavesdropping, but she didn’t need to - Josie Pye came whirling around the corner a moment later, not even looking at Anne as she strode down the hall. Her eyes were red. 

“Josie!” Anne called after her, but she hardly even glanced over her shoulder.

Anne looked down the hall, then rolled her eyes. “Damn Slytherins.”

She turned back towards Josie in a sort of skip-walk, trying to catch up. She caught her blonde hair heading for the stairs, and in an attempt to reach her before she made it back to the common room, she shouted after her,

“ _ Josie, stop! _ ”

The other girl slowed down, turning reluctantly. She wiped her eyes and hardened her face into a look of disinterest - Anne knew it well.

“What?” she said, rather harshly.

“Are you all right?” Anne asked. “I just - I know that there’s a lot going on right now.”

“Yes, and you don’t even know half of it, Anne, so mind your business!”

“Wait!” Anne said, grabbing her arm as she turned to leave. “I know I’m not your favorite person, but if you need to talk to someone-”

“Anne, just worry about the tournament,  _ okay _ ?” Josie said, but her eyes were tearing up again as she yanked her sleeve away. 

Anne watched her go, sighing in annoyance. 

“Fine,” she grumbled to herself as she took the stairs up to the third floor. “Don’t talk to me… why do I even bother.”

Anne knocked on the rickety wooden door twice before gently pushing it open. Professor Stacy was sitting at her desk, sorting through some essays. The room, however, was a complete disaster: one of the windows was smashed, several desks were overturned, and books were strewn everywhere.

“Oh, Anne, great!” Professor Stacy beamed at her, standing up from behind her desk. “Forgive the mess, the first years were working with the Knockback Jinx today… a bit disastrously, but I always think a little chaos is good for the learning process.”

She waved her wand and the room began restoring itself to order; the window mended itself, desks realigned, and books replaced themselves on the shelves. Anne peered through the newly repaired window - the Quidditch pitch was visible in the distance, restored to its usual appearance, as though the tasks had never happened. She thought she spotted Gilbert out there, playing a pick up game with some friends - he had a free period right now, didn’t he?

“Much better. If you could sit, please?” Professor Stacy smiled patiently at her. Anne snapped her head away from the window and took the seat nearest her desk.

“Professor, I know I’ve been distracted in class,” she confessed, hoping that the apology sounded as sincere as it felt. “I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I just-”

“I’m not mad about that,” she said, raising a hand to stop her. 

“You’re not? Why am I here then?” Anne asked bluntly. 

“For a similar reason,” her professor said kindly. “Gilbert tells me you aren’t sleeping-”

“Really, I’m-”

“-or eating properly, and that you’ve been having nightmares. Is that true?”

Anne glared out the window as if Gilbert could feel her burning eyes from the pitch. 

“He says you won’t go to Madam Pomfrey, and that you’ve not trusted anyone else with this information. Is that true?”

“He’ll be lucky if I trust him with a word of information ever again,” Anne mumbled.

“Anne.”

“Yes,” she relented. “That’s true.”

Professor Stacy gave her an unreadable look, though it made Anne feel like she was wounded. Then she turned and walked into her office for a moment before reappearing with a tall, deep green flask. 

“You may be mad at him,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of her desk in front of Anne. “But he told me because he cares about you. And because he knows that I care about you, okay?”

“Yes.”

“I asked Snape to help me brew this after Gilbert spoke to me. It’ll help you sleep, if you ever need it. And I know that classes are difficult right now, and the third task seems daunting, but the people who support you will be right there with you the whole way.”

Anne reached for the flash wordlessly, turning it in her hand. There was a thin, colorless liquid inside.

“Anne, it’s okay to ask for help.”

“Thank you,” Anne said without meeting her eyes. She supposed, too, that some of her gratitude was directed towards Gilbert. 

“I’ll see you in class.”

  
  


“Hey.”

“Hey, traitor.”

The smile fell from Gilbert’s face for a moment, but he grimaced and sat beside Anne anyways. She wasn’t really mad - he could tell that, Anne knew - but she still wanted to make him feel bad about it.

“So Professor Stacy spoke to you?”

“Obviously,” Anne muttered, turning the page of her Potions textbook, though she hadn’t really read it all yet. 

The faintest smile appeared on his face.

“Don’t be mad, Anne, I was just worried.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t be, cause now I’ve got to start drinking this every night!” She gave the dark green flash a little flourish, and Gilbert examined it. 

“Well, I guess we can always sell it off to some unsuspecting fourth years.”

“Oh, shut up,” Anne said, suppressing a laugh and lowering her voice when Madam Pince passed by with a hawkish look on her face. “I’m not even sure what it is - Stacy got Snape to brew it.”

“Probably just some variation of the Draught of Peace, right?” Gilbert said, tilting the flash and watching the liquid slosh inside. “I think you’ll be better off with it, and then we can try to move on.”

“And what, focus on the next task?” Anne pocketed the flask. “I’m sure it will be worse, anyways.”

“Well, we survived two,” Gilbert said hopefully. “How bad can this one possibly be?”

“Didn’t you say something similar before the second task?”

“Okay, well, we know it won’t be anything like the first two anyways, so there’s that.”

Anne shrugged, staring back at the page again. Gilbert opened his bag beside her; she stopped reading inadvertently, instead focusing on the scratching of his quill on his parchment.

“What’s bothering you,” he sighed eventually, scrawling a last line on the bottom of the parchment before rolling it up and turning back to her.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes.”

“I happen to find this particular topic very interesting. And thought provoking.”

Gilbert leaned over her shoulder; Anne felt his breath tickling her neck. “Hiccoughing Solution?”

“It’s fascinating,” Anne lied, and he raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I bumped into Josie in the hall yesterday.”

He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue.

“Well, she looked like she’d been crying, and I heard her arguing with someone, and she wouldn’t talk to me… and all that stuff has been happening with Billy’s father, I’m sure they’re going through a lot right now.”

“You know, it amazes me how empathetic you are,” Gilbert said, his tone a mix of admiration and disbelief. “Billy harassed you for years.”

“So did you!”

“I prefer to call it affectionate bickering.” 

Anne rolled her eyes, but allowed him to lean over and peck her fondly on the cheek.

“You’re not worried, then? That all of this is linked together? Billy’s father… Phillips… whoever’s behind this group of Dark wizards…”

“Do you believe that?”

“I saw it!” Anne said in a strangled whisper. “They went after your father, Gilbert, and after you! Dumbledore believes it.”

“It’s possible,” Gilbert admitted, his eyes darkening. “But there are much more qualified wizards in the Ministry, working to solve this. And we have another life threatening task to prepare for in the meantime.”

“The same Ministry that this group infiltrated last year,” Anne muttered. 

He didn’t respond, and Anne thought she saw the gears turning in the pensive look on his face. Yet, she obliged, pushed the Ministry and Billy’s father from her thoughts, and turned back to her textbook to finally read that page. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for ditching this story for a while, things got busy. Hopefully I'll be back and uploading a bit more regularly from here on out <3 Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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